Flint's Journal
by The Bard1
Summary: A peek into the Joe Warrant Officer's life and thoughts. Closely tied to Lady Jaye's Journal, so if you haven't read it yet I would strongly suggest it.
1. July 22nd

July 22nd,  
  
Maybe I should tell him.  
  
Nah…  
  
The irony would be lost on him, as would the humor.  
  
Jaye would get it, although I doubt she is in any mood to laugh at present. As it is, the last time I spoke with her she nearly took my head off.  
  
`Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.'  
  
Suffice it to say, I have no idea what I did. One minute I am her best friend and confidant and the next her claws are out and she is spitting like a rabid cat. Admittedly, I didn't help matters when I asked if it was `that time of month'.  
  
I just don't know where this stuff comes from!  
  
In any case, back to the matter at hand. The dreaded `journal'.  
  
It seems that Psych Out, in his infinite wisdom, has decided that the Joes need to get in touch with their inner selves, the thoughts and feelings that are actively barred from access to consciousness. Freud would characterize this as the id, the repository of an individual's sexual and aggressive wishes.  
  
And therein lies the irony, as for all intents and purposes MY id is right out there everyday…in your face. Our resident shrink likes to call me the `super-ego', a little Freudian play-on-words, and I think it has finally reached the point where the man cannot stand to see me anymore. In fact, when he first handed me this little book I assumed that I had finally driven him over the edge and he was relegating my therapy sessions to a poor, unsuspecting pen.  
  
From the look on his face I knew he didn't expect me to take this seriously. Even Duke laughed when I showed him the notebook, commenting that I could always use the pages to clean my gun.  
  
I wonder what Psych would say if I told him that I have kept a journal, on and off, for a good ten years now. He probably wouldn't believe me. No one would. No…wait…Jaye might, but then again she has been able to read me like a book from day one, a trait that fascinates as much as it frightens me.  
  
No. I will keep this little tidbit to myself, as I do almost everything.  
  
It has been a while since I have been able to write, and if anything this has given me an official excuse to start up again. I find it easier to express myself through the written word. Always have…since I was a kid.  
  
To be honest though, as much as I love it I am not very good at it. As Flaubert would say `I am irritated by my own writing. I am like a violinist whose ear is true but whose fingers refuse to reproduce precisely the sound he hears within'. I would much rather read than write, but everyone needs an outlet. This is mine.  
  
Speaking of outlets, what does a guy have to do to get a little action around here? I don't like being idle...and I haven't seen much fighting since that last big battle at Benzeen. I wonder if Hawk needs a hand in Trans Carpathia?  
  
Can't let Jaye have all the fun! 


	2. July 24th

July 24th,  
  
Hmmmm.  
  
It seems that she is a little angrier than I originally thought.  
  
From the look she gave me when I came off the chopper, I would have placed her at about the 'second circle'. Of course, me being…well…'me', the instant I opened my mouth I sent her spiraling down to about the fourth.  
  
I suppose I should explain myself, although I fear for my life if 'the subject' of this little analysis ever gets her hands on this journal. Suffice it to say that I have classified Lady Jaye's moods under a convenient system of planes or circles, much like Dante did when he described Hell in his famous 'Inferno'.  
  
If you have ever experienced a Burnett rage, you would quickly realize that the analogy to Hell is an appropriate one. Believe me, I know it all too well.  
  
In brief, the first plane or circle involves nothing more than and irritated narrowing of the eyes and a warning glare. The second adds snide remarks to the repertoire. The third…insults. The fourth…walking off in a huff.  
  
All of this is merely fluff, and as far as I can tell from my time with her an escape route is easily found for those willing and able to read the signs. Some of us, however, are a little denser than others, and usually end up barreling right through the gates like a blitzkrieg.  
  
'All hope abandon, ye who enter here'  
  
The shouting starts at about the fifth plane, then the floodgates open on six as her sharp tongue is let loose but good. The woman is a master wordsmith as well as a studied linguist, and needless to say when she is of the mind, she can rip a person to shreds with a simple sentence…and do it fluently in eight languages.  
  
By seven it gets physical, and the fists start flying. You should have seen her whip Zarana's ass during the COBRA civil war! To be honest, it was a major turn on. She is cute when she is angry, at least when the source of her ire is not directed at 'yours truly', but seeing her fight Zartan's sister…it was downright sexy.  
  
The eighth and ninth circles are ones that I have only brought her to once and never, ever want to visit again. It is here that the anger translates itself into a hurt so deep that it can rip a guy's heart out. I have known Jaye for over four years, and I have only seen her cry twice. To push her to the point where she completely looses control is not something to be proud of, nor is it something to joke about.  
  
It is something to avoid.  
  
In any case, back to the matter at hand…getting my sorry butt out of the line of fire.  
  
There are days where I seriously wonder about the very obvious and highly frustrating case of 'foot in mouth/foot down throat' syndrome from which I suffer. All I needed to do was apologize…a simple 'I'm sorry' would have sufficed…regardless of the fact that I have yet to figure out what it is I did to get her back up in the first place.  
  
Instead…I made it into a game of 'poke the hornet's nest with a stick'…uttering some snide remark about Destro, and about her not shielding her binoculars and giving us away to our enemy. She, of course, snapped back with a quick riposte…and before I knew it Hawk was chewing us both out for juvenile behavior, reminding us that we were here on a mission to back up Destro and we had better get with the program and watch for the signal.  
  
"What if he gets carried away with wild passion and forgets?"  
  
"Destro's not like you, Flint. He can think of other things from time to time…"  
  
Ah yes…the whole Destro debate. One of my favorites! (note dripping sarcasm).What is it with that guy anyways? From the way the women get around him you would think he was Sean Connery or something.  
  
Must be the accent.  
  
Lady Jaye has a thing for him. I am not quite sure I understand exactly what that 'thing' is, but since that time were we fought side by side with the Scottish Laird, she has developed some convoluted 'noble enemy' theory about him…the chivalrous black knight.  
  
I do know that he reminds her a bit of her late father. She told me so…and even had she not I can read her well enough to be able to infer it from her behavior. Despite that familiarity, much of what this woman thinks and feels remains a mystery to me. Whether this is a result of her refusal to share with me, or the consequence of my steadfast and hardheaded refusal to ask remains to be seen. A combination of the two no doubt, although I have no illusions that the latter contributes more to the impasse between us than anything..  
  
But that is a whole other subject altogether.  
  
Even Scarlett, who I like to think of as a pretty level headed soldier…respects the man, she and Snake Eyes going so far as to mourn his supposed death when the PITT at Fort Wadsworth was destroyed. The man nearly got us all killed for Christ's sake!  
  
Snakes might have been swayed to this point of view but as for myself, I don't care how eloquently Jaye argues her point, as far as I am concerned he is one of the leaders of a group out to kill us. Reason enough to dislike him I should think. Not to mention the fact that he is a very successful black market arms dealer. There is NOTHING noble or likeable about that.  
  
An enemy is an enemy. Use them when convenient, but never EVER forget that they would betray you in an instant if you turn your back on them. In my mind you are either my friend or my enemy…it's all very black and white.  
  
Then again…even your closest friends will betray you if you are stupid enough to let your guard down.  
  
'Et tu, Brute?'  
  
'Shades of gray' indeed. As Snake Eyes once signed to me after I complained to him of the long-standing debate between my partner and I…  
  
"…Which is worse, Flint? Searching for something good and noble about your enemy or constantly seeing the potential for evil and duplicity in you friends."  
  
Touché.  
  
Ah…there she is now…on her way to her tent. Time to turn on the charm, Faireborn, or you will be sleeping alone tonight.  
  
I can't understand it. Usually our bantering leads us both into fits of laughter…or better yet to the bedroom…but lately she has become so sensitive. It's very unlike her. It seems as though everything I do sets her off…  
  
Ah well, as Christopher Morley once wrote…"A man who has never made a woman angry is a failure in life."  
  
I just wish I wouldn't make a habit of it. 


	3. July 25th

July 25th,  
  
Good to see you haven't lost your touch, Faireborn.  
  
It's very early in the morning. The sun hasn't come up yet and in the distance wolves can be heard howling at he night sky. I awoke with a start a couple of minutes ago, my heart racing from that disquieting disorientation you get when you are awake enough to be aware of your surroundings, but not yet fully able to process where it is that you are.  
  
Allie's warm, slumbering form is beside me, curled up comfortably on her side. She must be cold, as she is nestled up close to me, her head resting on my chest. I have to smile as I reach down to touch her gently, my thoughts turning to the events of last night as I run my hands through her soft brown hair.  
  
I suppose I should mention that Jaye and I are lovers, although if you haven't yet inferred it from my previous entries I would be surprised. We have maintained a relationship for a good three years now, and though it has had its moments, for the most part we have remained true to each other throughout.  
  
Sharing intimacies with this woman is an experience, and there has never been a time that I have been with her and not come away with a satisfied grin on my face. The feeling is mutual of that I am sure, even if she is loath to admit it for fear of stoking my already inflated ego. She needn't say a word, however. I can tell.  
  
From every sound, every movement, every touch, I can tell.  
  
I am very good at what I do. Hey…why beat around the bush? I am a great lover. Always have been. I know exactly what to do and when to do it. I can read a woman's body language and adjust my approach accordingly to fit her needs. Contrary to popular belief, I am not a 'wham, bam, thank you ma'am' type of guy. To me, a great deal of the satisfaction of sex comes from knowing you have made your partner feel the same pleasure that you have.  
  
Just call me Don Juan Faireborn.  
  
I needn't add that my skill is a point of pride. As the people who know me well can attest, I never boast about something I cannot backup.  
  
Yes, I have had many lovers…and I can see where someone looking in from the outside would interpret the steady stream of women flowing in and out of my life as a sign of a shallow, selfish nature.  
  
Maybe it is.  
  
To be honest, a good deal of my adult life revolved around collecting beautiful women and wooing them to my bed. Does that make me a womanizer? I would be lying if I said I have never broken any hearts. I would be lying if I said I have never been in over my head and ended up hurting someone in the process of trying to extricate myself from a relationship gone sour. I would definitely be lying if I said I have never been hurt myself.  
  
If I told you that I never led any of them to believe that the relationship was anything other than a short term fling…that I made it very clear from the get-go that they shouldn't expect any commitment from me…would that show me in a better light?  
  
Probably not.  
  
I could say that I was young and stupid, that this was the hot fire of youth, quickly extinguished by the experience and wisdom that come with age…with the satisfaction of finally finding the 'right' girl to settle down with and raise a family. Only I tried that once…to say that it didn't work would be the understatement of the millennium.  
  
Not to mention I was still at it when I met Lady Jaye, and in a way some part of me continues even now…refusing to commit despite the inordinate amount of time this relationship has gone on…refusing to believe that I am finally content.  
  
No…I am not cheating on her. I would NEVER do that.  
  
Ever.  
  
I have known the pain and hurt that comes when someone you love and trust has an affair…the heart-rending sadness caused by the most agonizing of betrayals. No apology can mend the wound. No excuse can possibly justify the duplicity.  
  
Blaise Pascal once wrote that 'time heals griefs and quarrels, for we change and are no longer the same persons. Neither the offender nor the offended are any more themselves'. I tend to agree with this assessment. Time has dulled the pain, but more because the incident has changed me on some fundamental level than the slow and steady passing of the years.  
  
I am no longer the same person I was before. Sadly, I truly doubt that the transformation was an improvement.  
  
In fact, I am sure this is the most likely reason I continue to play at this game…this youthful folly…for fear that if I commit, that if I finally let myself feel, I will be hurt yet again.  
  
I find it amazing that my relationship with her has lasted as long as it has. When I first met her I took up the challenge to get her into my bed…and a challenge it was! When I finally succeeded, I made it clear that I wanted to keep it light and she agreed. Now, all these years later, we are still together and I still say 'keep it light'…yet the idea of us ever being apart fills me with a bone chilling dread.  
  
Truth be told, I don't know which is the more alarming, the fear that the relationship will eventually have to end…or the terror instilled by knowing I have let my guard down and made myself vulnerable to the pain I swore I would never experience again.  
  
She just shifted in her sleep…the army issue blanket has slipped down, revealing her body to me. She was shivering so I tenderly tucked her back in, and was rewarded by a quiet, sleepy smile.  
  
Lady Jaye…Alison…is a beautiful woman. She has a dancer's physique, long and slim yet muscular and well defined. Hers is a natural beauty, a quiet beauty…striking in its simplicity and charm…so different from the tall, heavily made up blonds that usually grace my arm.  
  
Her skin is soft and smooth, no doubt a result of the care she takes with it. If you have ever been in her bathroom you would know what I mean. The woman must have stock in Crabtree and Evelyn! I remember the first time I stayed over…there was no room for my shaving cream and toothbrush between all those bottles.  
  
Kiele's, Aveda, Body Shop, Clinique, SPA line…  
  
Why one needs eight different Shampoos is certainly one of the great, unsolved mysteries that have confounded the male mind for time immemorial.  
  
It is one of the few truly 'feminine' pursuits that she allows herself, pampering herself with hot bubble baths and scented creams. Not that any of it is ever overwhelming…she is a master of what she calls 'tasteful simplicity'…and admittedly I kind of like it. She always feels and smells wonderful.  
  
Unconsciously, my hand goes to her left shoulder to trace the scar left by a bullet fired from a Crimson Guard's machine gun. She hates the thing…and of course I didn't help matters when I said it gave her character, that it was a battle scar and she should wear it with pride.  
  
I think I also asked her in a suggestive tone if she would like to see my scars later that evening. That was the second time I had ever talked to her. Both times I was rewarded with a verbal slap in the face.  
  
Did I say it was incredible that we have lasted so long? What I should have said was that it was a miracle we actually ended up together in the first place!  
  
In any case, the reason she dislikes it so is that it is a permanent and stark reminder of her own morality, of a brush with the 'Dark Angel' who hovers around our small group…waiting for that one misstep, that one miscalculation…that one mistake…which will allow him to grab your hand and lead you from this world into the next.  
  
Which is the precise reason why I told her that 'love has no place in the military' when we decided to take our relationship to a more intimate level. We cannot afford to get too close. We have to live for the day, and not plan for the future…  
  
For we are soldiers, and as such we have but 'three firm friends, more sure than day and night, — ourselves, our Maker, and the angel Death.'  
  
Why is it then that lately I am beginning to question that conviction? 


	4. July 27th

July 27th,  
  
Oh god…I should have been forewarned when he said he was going to teach me some humility.  
  
Duke, you son of a bitch…I am going to get you back for this.  
  
Duke…Sergeant Conrad Hauser…the Joe team's field commander and one of my closest friends. We have known each other for years, having met and served on numerous missions before joining the Joe team. In fact, it was on his recommendation that I was recruited to the top-secret anti-terrorist force. I owe him a lot…I owe him my life…he saved my ass during one of our first missions together.  
  
That doesn't mean he doesn't get on my nerves.  
  
Truth be told, I hated him at first. Mind you, I don't think he was all that fond of me either. We tend to push each other's buttons, competing with each other relentlessly over the most trivial of things. Yet there are very few who I would trust more guarding my back.  
  
As I told Scarlett…it's a guy thing.  
  
And anyhow, she should talk…Jaye and her are at each others throats as often as they are sharing confidences and doing whatever it is girls do.  
  
Duke is everything I despised as a kid…yet everything I have spent my life trying to be. The Golden Boy…the varsity jock…the all-American. Popular, well-liked and easy going…he never seems to put a foot down wrong. He is an accomplished soldier and a born leader, a man that every Joe would follow to his death without question.  
  
He is sure of himself in a way I will never be.  
  
I have many, many acquaintances…people who I enjoy spending time with, going out for a drink and getting together to watch the big game. That said, I could count the number of truly close friends on one hand. Duke is one of them. Roadblock as well…Snake Eyes is someone I met more recently but took an immediate liking to…Paul, a chum back in Kansas who I grew up with…and of course Lady Jaye…the first female ever to grace the list.  
  
I wonder why there are so few? Trust issues I suppose. People who don't know me well…which is includes pretty much everyone who is not on the above mentioned list…think I am some bigger than life party boy…a big mouth egoist with too much confidence for my own good and not a care in the world. They are right…but they are overlooking something fundamental to my nature that I have buried so deep that it rarely ever sees the light of day.  
  
I doubt even Marvin or Conrad have even an inkling.  
  
When I was a kid…when I was very young…I was painfully shy. No, not exactly true…I wasn't shy to begin with, but a couple of schoolyard incidents and playground fights left me fearful of other children. Admittedly, there is more to the story than that, but I will refrain from boring you.  
  
In any case, I grew out of it…I grew up.  
  
It helped that my older brothers were good role models. Well…good role models for popular, arrogant machismo masculinity.  
  
Needless to say, I have always been a quick study.  
  
When I was about six years old my parents got me a dog. I don't know what they were thinking, that maybe the animal would draw me out a bit, make me more rough and tumble and less…well…less bookish. At any rate, I loved that animal. It was a wolf marked husky, a big, beautiful dog with blue eyes and mischievous grin.  
  
I named him Loki, after the Norse trickster god. Yeah…I know…not the name your average six year old would come up with, but then again I was far from average. In any case, it fit him well…he was intelligent and was bored easily, a combination that led to more trouble than you could possibly imagine.  
  
I could relate.  
  
He also had a sense of humor, if such can be said of a dog, and was a wonderful, loyal companion…the perfect playmate for a boy with an overactive imagination and a lust for adventure. He lived to the ripe old age of 14…died just before I left for Oxford. For all the friends I made later on…he was the one constant in my life throughout my entire childhood.  
  
After he died I would sit in my dorm room and think guiltily about all those times when, as a teenager partying with the boys, I had left him behind. As we both matured, my life began to expand while his receded. He never complained…and was always there waiting up for me when I came home at night, wagging his tail and jumping like a puppy despite the arthritis and cataracts that plagued him in old age.  
  
Even now there are times I still miss his quiet presence on the end of my bed.  
  
Senator George Vest once said that the one absolutely unselfish friend that man can have in this selfish world, the one that never deserts him, the one that never proves ungrateful or treacherous, is his dog. 'He will kiss the hand that has no food to offer; he will lick the wounds and sores that come in encounter with the roughness of the world. . . .When all other friends desert, he remains.'  
  
I wonder if Loki set my expectations too high with regards to friendship. I demand such absolute loyalty from those close to me, set the bar soaring so that very few can hope to reach it. Am I afraid to get close? Maybe…but as Buddha once pointed out:  
  
"An insincere and evil friend is more to be feared than a wild beast; a wild beast may wound your body, but an evil friend will wound your mind."  
  
That said, I give as good as I get. Once you are my friend I will stand by you through thick and thin. I might tease, I might argue…but I will never let you down.  
  
It seems, given my current situation, that a little ribbing from said friends is also acceptable.  
  
Eco-Warriors. Of all the crazy, tree hugging, publicity chasing, politically correct, numbskull ideas that the Pentagon has come up with, this has GOT to take the cake. Duke is smiling at me from the cockpit as I hold my new suit up to the light.  
  
Damn it! I knew I should never have taunted him about my success with women!  
  
We were at a nightclub having a drink and these women were flocking to our table. I needn't tell you they were hovering around me, a fact that, in my inebriated state, I was quick to point out to my blond friend. He just smiled calmly and said that I shouldn't be so cocky, because if it weren't for the uniform and the beret I would be relegated to begging for scraps like all the other 'dull-normals'.  
  
Of course, I immediately came back with a typical Flint machismo remark. I think it went something like…  
  
"That's just the icing on the cake, my friend…I could waltz around here in my boxers and still attract the girls. I am pretty sure they would be falling all over me with or without the uniform. In fact, I would probably have to beat them off with a stick if they saw some skin."  
  
It went on from there.  
  
Oh god…if Jaye sees me in this thing she is never going to let me live it down!  
  
At least she is speaking to me again.  
  
The mission I just left was anything but easy. In fact, it was one disaster after another.  
  
Bloody Ninja Force…  
  
Bloody Destro…  
  
I can't help but shudder as I remember Allie nearly rolling off a cliff in the BADGER. The brakes had given way at a critical point in the operation and Jaye, being Jaye, stubbornly refused to bail despite my frantic shouts for her get out while she still could. The problem was the team just couldn't afford to have that vehicle roll within range of Strong Point's weapons and give use all away. It was either risk the cliff in an attempt to restart the engine or drop over.  
  
It didn't work, but man…it took guts to do what she did…especially given her fear of heights. When the going get toughs she never backs down, she never balks. I admire that about her. I also know that after she comes down from the adrenaline high she is always a bit shaky, so in retrospect immediately after the battle was probably not the best time for me to comment.  
  
She snapped back, quickly pointing out that she did EXACLTY the same thing I would have done if situations were reversed. That shut me up, although I physically had to bite back a remark about my driving skills being far superior.  
  
Hey…I might be stupid when it comes to her…but I am not suicidal!  
  
Nevertheless, for the rest of the slow drive to the border I couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that had come over me as I watched her roll into enemy fire.  
  
She must have noticed my discomfort because she turned to me and smiled.  
  
"I'm all right you know…you can stop worrying."  
  
Of course, I harrumphed at her and said I was hardly worried…'Just thinking about the mission ahead is all'.  
  
From the spark of humor in her eye I knew she didn't believe me. Probably the only good thing about this new assignment is that the C-130 which came to pick me up at the border saved me from her teasing.  
  
As I was about to board, I paused…turning to Alison. I knew I would be leaving her in danger. I knew I had no choice. I had to go. I had orders…as much as I hate them (what did they make this suit out of, recycled action figures?). I could have just walked off without saying a word. Its not like I haven't done it before…  
  
Except that it never felt right.  
  
I didn't want to tell her anything too direct…anything that might reveal something I wasn't quite ready to deal with myself…and I certainly didn't want to say anything 'sappy' in front of the men.  
  
As usual, though, I found the perfect quote sitting in that library of a brain I have…and shouted at her across the field as I climbed on to the plane.  
  
"De corde totaliter Et ex mente tota, Sum presentialiter Absens in remota."  
  
I didn't look back, but I could just imagine her standing there with a confused/annoyed look on her face. It made me grin…  
  
Of all the languages she knows…Latin is definitely not one of them.  
  
  
  
Authors Note: rough translation of what Flint said…'With all my heart, with all my soul, I am with you though I am far away' taken from Carmina Burana. 


	5. August 11th

August 11th,  
  
She's fine.  
  
I know she's fine.  
  
She has to be fine.  
  
Damn it all to Hell! Why can't I focus? It's not as though my mission here with Eco-Warriors is over. My main task has been completed for certain…Cesspool has been arrested and his COBRA lackeys rounded up and detained. However, duty dictates that I remain to supervise the clean up, as well as make sure COBRA doesn't come back for more.  
  
If not for this responsibility I would be on the first chopper out of here. As it is, I am slowly going insane as Cleansweep and Ozone mop up the chemicals while I worry endlessly over something to which I have absolutely no control.  
  
What the hell is wrong with me?  
  
I'll tell you what is wrong…I am on an oilrig in the middle of the bloody Gulf of Mexico with bloody Greenpeace, while the woman I lo…  
  
…While someone I care deeply for is missing in a very unstable region of Eastern Europe.  
  
I was informed of the situation when I called in my status to the base. Hawk, Lady Jaye and the others had disappeared in Borovia after a mad flight out of Trans Carpathia. Hawk was down…whether dead or wounded no one was sure…and Lady Jaye was being held prisoner by the secret police.  
  
Why the hell did Marvin let her out of his sight?  
  
No, that's unfair. He isn't her babysitter…nor does she need one. She is a soldier, a Joe…as much a warrior as any of us. I remember the day I met her…the day I joined the team…the first thing I did after introducing myself was tell her I was here to 'class up her act'. Ironically, she ended up classing up mine.  
  
I was born to be a soldier. The son of a retired Colonel, the nephew of a war hero, the youngest of four boys…all of whom had ended up in on branch of the military or another…it was fated from the day I took my first breathe.  
  
To say that I accepted this destiny without question would be a fallacy unworthy of this journal. These pages are supposed to be filled with honest, soul- searching introspection…not my usual arrogant ramblings. The truth is I resisted.  
  
This is not to say that I wasn't ready to give it my all when I finally walked of the bus and into boot camp…that I wasn't excited to be there. I was ready for a new challenge and the Army was the perfect outlet for a young man with excessive amount of energy. Sports just weren't cutting it anymore, and Oxford, although an experience I will always treasure had proven that academia was not a route that suited my nature.  
  
The latter was most surprising, as most of my life was spend devouring any book I could get my hands on. I love literature, and a degree in the subject from Oxford…on a Rhodes Scholarship no less…was a dream come true. I can just picture the shock on your face as you read this. Flint…the Joe bad ass…a literati! It is a trait I keep well hidden.  
  
In any case, when I was a small child the idea of the military fascinated as much as it frightened me. I wasn't frightened of soldiering as a profession…of war or giving ones life for ones country…how could I be, having been immersed in the culture every day of my life. I knew the military inside and out by an age when most children are picking up their first toy soldier.  
  
I was more frightened of failing and disappointing my father.  
  
My brothers were all much older than I…already grown when I was a mere grade schooler. I guess you might say I was an 'accident', for my abrupt appearance in my parent's life was certainly unplanned. Not that I was ever made to feel like I wasn't welcome. On the contrary…my family is quite close. At any rate, Ray, Mickey and John were either in the forces already or about to join while I was still a mere child…and my father used to brag endlessly about his three boys…officers all.  
  
As for me…well…he didn't quite know what to make of me. I was, how did he put it?.. 'odd'. To add insult to injury I didn't seem all that interested in the military. What was a colonel to do?  
  
It was not, however, a typical case of childhood determination to be as UNLIKE your parent's as possible…to be different. Certainly, a bit of that teenage rebellion came into play, but it clashed against an almost overwhelming need to be the tough like my brothers…to make my father proud.  
  
Not to mention the ever-present drive to be accepted by my peers…to adapt, to change, to bury the very thing that made me what I am. My gift…  
  
…my curse.  
  
I don't know what it was that made me such a bastard about the whole thing. I could have gone to West Point…instead I went to Oxford. I could have done officers training…instead I signed up as enlisted. I delayed the inevitable as long as I could and it drove my father to distraction.  
  
Which I think was precisely my aim…to get him back for some perceived slight from my early years. It all seems so shallow now, so childish…and ironically, despite my being the lowest ranked member of my family, I have excelled past all of them to become one of the military's finest…a Joe. I have seen more action that even my highly decorated Uncle. Me…the Warrant Officer…who would have thought!  
  
Henry Miller wrote that every man has his own destiny. The only imperative is to follow it, to accept it, no matter where it leads him. I accepted mine…and in doing so I found myself doing something I loved, something I was good at…something that challenged both my mind and my body. And I was good at it.  
  
No.  
  
I was excellent.  
  
I ripped through basic like it was kindergarten. I breezed through Airborne, Ranger and Special Forces school. Chopper lessons and Flight Warrant Officer's school came next…cake-walk. Needless to say the 'powers that be' took notice and I began to be selected for the tough missions…the impossible rescues and the no win situations. My friends always joked that the brass were trying to get rid of me and my big mouth…but deep down they knew that if anyone could get the job done, it was 'Flint'.  
  
I might come across as a braggart…an arrogant egoist…but I am good at what I do and I am not afraid to let people know it. While I realize my attitude grates on the nerves, as soon as my detractors see me in action they cease to complain.  
  
I am certainly not perfect. Far from it! I have a short fuse and tend to go off half cocked despite the meticulous planning I do before every mission. I can be a troublemaker and like to take risks…sometimes-unnecessary ones.  
  
This is why I say Lady Jaye classed up my act.  
  
I am not really used to fighting side by side with a member of the opposite sex. Although there are many women in the military, combat was, and still is for all intents and purposes, off limits to females.  
  
This rule, like many others, did not apply to the Joe team.  
  
I have to admit to being a bit closed minded about the whole 'women in combat' thing. Sure, intellectually there is no logical reason WHY they shouldn't be fighting right next to us…but still the all prevailing 'brotherhood of the sword' mindset tends to cloud even the most liberal of males.  
  
Nevertheless, she impressed me tremendously, and I needn't tell you that I am not easily impressed. Seeing Lady Jaye fight…seeing any of the Joe women fight…is truly an eye opener. I remember the first time I saw her in action while teamed with her in Scotland…our first mission together in fact. I began that operation with arms crossed and eyes narrowed; annoyed at being partnered with her despite the friendship that had formed between us.  
  
I ended the mission in awe of her strength and cunning. She is as good a soldier as they come, professional and no-nonsense.  
  
In fact, the only thing she seems to lack is confidence in her own abilities. She never lets it show…no one would ever see her so much as hesitate when in combat. But then again they don't know her as well as I.  
  
We make a great team, she and I…she reins me in while I push her forward. I supply confidence while she provides prudence. I could say I am the brawn and she is the brain, but those to traits are pretty much even between us. Sure, physically I might be the stronger one, but having been knocked out by her before believe me when I tell you she packs quite a punch.  
  
Despite my testosterone charged chauvinist attitude, I can say with all honesty here on this page that she is by far the best partner I have ever had. There is no one I would rather serve with…there is no one I would rather have at my side when COBRA comes a calling.  
  
So…with all that said…why is it that I am sitting here, teetering on the edge of my sanity, ready to charge off this platform and head to Europe like some knight of old rescuing a damsel in distress?  
  
Why is it that I can't stop thinking about her…hoping that she is all right…praying that she is all right?  
  
You know the answer to that question, though…don't you Dashiell? 


	6. August 12th

August 12th,  
  
"The greatest weakness of all is the great fear of appearing weak. "  
  
Lady Jaye said that to me once, I cannot quite remember the circumstances. The quote is attributed to Jacques Benigne Bossuet, a French prelate from the 17th century, and I have no doubt that she repeated it to me…mimicking my own habit of quoting great works…as a witty yet sharply accurate observation of behavior quite similar to the scene that just took place between us over the phone.  
  
I received word that she and Hawk had been found late tonight. Ozone had been monitoring the radio the time the call came through from HQ, and although I was up and roaming the decks…unable to sleep…he neglected to inform me until several hours later.  
  
Needless to say I nearly took his head off when the news finally reached me. Frustration, anger and worry had all been seething inside my gut for over 48 hours and was desperately seeking release but somehow I managed to control myself long enough to realize that the poor man had no idea as to the importance of the message…at least to me.  
  
Furthermore, I was in such a rush to get on the satellite phone and confirm her safety for myself that I had little time to pull rank and nail the guy to the wall.  
  
Wild Bill picked up immediately and before I could even say hello he greeted me with an amused 'She's fine, Flint…' in that caricature Texas drawl before breaking into some melodramatic country western love song.  
  
Have I become that predictable?  
  
"Put her on the line Bill…"  
  
"I don't know, Pardner…the Lady kind of wanted to be left alone…"  
  
"Just put her on the line!" I snapped. I didn't mean to, Wild Bill is a good friend. Given a little time he would probably become one of the few I allow close. Unfortunately, this was not the best time to be teasing me.  
  
"Ok, ok…keep yer beret on…oooweee, Flint…you come by yer name honestly I tell you."  
  
Ah yes…my name. My code name at least. My real name is Dashiell Robert Faireborn…named after Dashiell Hammett of Maltese Falcon fame and my Uncle Robert Faireborn…war hero extraordinaire.  
  
Dash for short.  
  
I hated my name growing up. It was a major cause of trouble for me in the schoolyard as the others constantly made fun of my girly-name…among other things. Needless to say that stopped when I finally came into my own and learned how to fight. No one dared make fun of me after that…not that they would regardless…for by that time I had managed to worm my way into the popular crowd and had somehow been miraculously transformed into the school hot-shot.  
  
Mind you…my name still causes me to cringe inwardly when I hear it. It doesn't really suit my nature…at least the manifestation of my nature that I allow others see. It is a name suited more to some Lacoste wearing blond high school quarterback with friends like Biff and Todd, and a girlfriend named Muffy.  
  
I prefer to be called Flint…and truth be told hardly anyone knows me as Dash anymore. Just like everyone calls Duke 'Duke' and not Conrad…even his family!  
  
It was he who gave me my code name on one of our early missions together…same time he gave Roadblock his as a matter of fact. Marvin's, of course, was a commentary on his size and imposing stature. Mine is a bit more subtle.  
  
I am hard as a rock…nothing phases me…nothing can turn me from my mission. Nothing can penetrate my skin. Deep inside, however, is a spark…a fire…a temper that can ignite in a flash. You don't want to be on the receiving end when that happens.  
  
Mind you, when Duke dubbed me Flint…I think he was thinking more along the lines that I have rocks in my head and I end up exploding into action without thinking.  
  
Surprisingly, as much as I love my code name…if I was to be frank with you I would admit that neither interpretation is an accurate description of my true character…although the temper is bang on.  
  
I have neither rocks in my head, nor am I as tough skinned as I make myself out to be. That said, Duke couldn't possibly have known this when he dubbed me 'Flint'…nor would anyone be the wiser. Flint is…well…he is exactly that…he is FLINT.  
  
Dashiell…well…he is another story altogether.  
  
God…you probably think I have some sort of schizophrenic multiple personality disorder by the way I am writing this. I just don't know how else to describe it. I am Dashiell…I am Flint…they are one in the same. Separate one from the other and I would cease to be…well…I would cease to be me.  
  
Its just that one side of my personality tends to overshadow the other…in fact it had gotten to the point where Dashiell had pretty much ceased to be. That is until a rainy night outside of a destroyed PIT when he began to emerge again. Until a night in Grenada when I heard my name uttered with a melodic gaelic lilt, heard it cried out in sorrow and in passion and in...in something else…  
  
"Dashiell…"  
  
In any case, back to my original tale. Wild Bill finally handed me off to Lady Jaye and when she picked up the handset and I heard her voice…tired and shaken…but alive and well, relief flooded through me. I hadn't realized quite how much I had been affected by her capture…but as it dawned on me I suddenly became angry with myself for behaving so unprofessionally.  
  
For allowing personal issues to interfere with my job.  
  
But more than that, I was loath to let the woman in question know that I had been sick with worry. So instead I kept the conversation short and light, teasing her about getting into trouble, joking about her getting some sense knocked into her…telling her if I was there I would have kicked some ass.  
  
I was done in part to save myself from the tirade that would follow should she interpret my concern as some slight against her abilities as a soldier…God knows she is very sensitive about her work. However, the most pressing reason was my own fear.  
  
Fear of appearing weak. Fear of letting go…  
  
To me, the worst thing in the world is to be weak…to let someone see your Achilles' heel. Give the world nothing they can use against you. Give them nothing they can turn around and hurt you with.  
  
A man is never weak, a soldier never lets his fear show.  
  
Lady Jaye once asked me if I knew what it was to be afraid. I didn't answer her at first, thinking of a typical asinine reply, but eventually I admitted the truth…which was yes. I have been afraid…I have been afraid more times that I can remember.  
  
But I know how to hide it.  
  
It might sound like some macho-mantra, but it's the truth. Fear clouds your judgment. Weakness leaves you vulnerable. I am an expert at concealing it…at pushing it aside. In its place I turn to humor and arrogance, male- posturing and party-boy shenanigans.  
  
"I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain."  
  
That was Frank Hebert's 'Litany Against Fear'. It's from DUNE…one of the few Science Fiction novels I have read. A classic…up there with Asimov's 'I, Robot'. I remember when I first read it. I was 11, I think. That quote has stuck with me to this day. In fact, it represents a kind of turning point in my life, an awakening.  
  
I have had an army of COBRA troops chasing my ass. I have walked through booby trapped jungles and penetrated enemy bases under cover of night. I have faced some of the worlds most ruthless men and have run headlong into hostile fire.  
  
Just recently I have had a loaded gun put to my head…and through it all I have never flinched, never broken a sweat…never let either my allies or my enemies see me as anything other than cool and collected.  
  
And yet this woman has me loosing sleep…has me on the razors edge. I don't know which is worse…the fear of losing her to an enemy bullet or the fear that I have completely lost control of this relationship and allowed myself to do what I swore I would never do again.  
  
Yet…worse than that is my absolutely spineless insistence that she never be given so much as a clue as to how she has come to effect me.  
  
Even after hearing the exasperated sigh while I was speaking with her, even knowing that she was waiting to hear words of comfort and concern that I am unable or unwilling to give…I still refuse to budge. God knows she has wrung more out of me than I have ever thought possible…but I fought her every inch of the way.  
  
I wonder how much longer she is going to put up with me before she decides to look elsewhere? It is inevitable, isn't it? It will happen eventually, why not help it along?  
  
But as much as that little voice grates at me day in and day out, I can't help but wish I had told her I was happy to hear her voice. To have told her that she had done a wonderful job getting Hawk to safety…that I was proud of her…  
  
You are nothing but a coward, Flint. 


	7. August 25th

August 25th,  
  
Finally…a moment to myself.  
  
Wild Bill, Lift Ticket and I are currently flying patrol in the Northern reaches of Canada, working side by side with the RCMP in an attempt to smoke some Snakes out of their den. Apparently, several minor COBRA agents have been spotted hanging around the border between Alaska and the Yukon Territories, and although the Canadians were reluctant to accept what they consider to be unnecessary interference, they finally consented to have us tag along.  
  
Although we are currently acting as pilots our true objective, as Hawk stressed before we left the States, was to observe and consult. We are not to interfere unless there is a specific threat to the US or we are asked by the Mounties to join in on a more 'active' level.  
  
It's been quiet so far…mind you it has only been a day. But what a day it was…hot-dogging through the skies above Yellowknife to the pounding rhythm of the Rolling Stones that blasted through the sound system Wild Bill had rigged in the choppers.  
  
Currently, I am sitting on the airstrip leaning against my Huey as I wait for the signal to take off…a rare moment of peace. The sun is still up high in the sky, being far enough North that these late summer days are still long and bright. As a result the work hours are extended indefinitely, taking advantage of the light during this time of year in an attempt to make up for the prevailing dark of winter.  
  
It's been a while since I have had a chance to sit down and write. Things have been pretty busy around the base since I returned to regular duties earlier this month. Despite the late hour of arrival, Duke had somehow managed to wrangle up what amounted to the entire team and had them waiting to greet me as I descended from the transport in my fluorescent green body suit. Of course, Lady Jaye was at the front of the pack and damn near fell over laughing when she saw me.  
  
Damn you Conrad…you had better watch your back my friend. I am going to get you back but good.  
  
"… life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, Burning for burning, wound for wound, stripe for stripe."  
  
Whoa…where did that come from? Exodus? God, if Eddie were here he would be on the floor.  
  
Edward Balcroft was my roommate at Oxford. A prim and proper British gent from a well to do upper middle class London family, he was studying theology at Oxford …comparative religions. A skinny bespectacled fellow, tall and lanky…the epitome of the meek scholar…Eddie and I were probably the most mismatched pair in St Peters. His quiet, pious curiosity stood in stark contrast to my loudmouth, obnoxious American ways, but nevertheless he and I got along very well. We became fast friends, although I did make it a sport to tease him, constantly challenging him to debates in which my atheist views would drive him to the Sherry and Port tumblers in the 'great room'.  
  
God, I haven't thought about Eddie for a long while. Nor 'Nan' for that matter…Nandi Paresh…a Rhodes Scholar from New Delhi who had the room across from us and was reading Philosophy at the graduate level. Eddie used to call him 'the heathen'…while Nandi used to call Eddie ' the Inquisitor'. Nan was a not-so-devout Hindu, a fun loving, jovial fellow who, from what I understand, had taken the bar and is now a lawyer with a big English firm, having decided early on not to return to his homeland.  
  
The debates we used to have! They lasted well into the early hours of the morning. For the first time in my life I felt like my mind was being pushed to the limits. Every day was another intellectual challenge…every night another brainteaser of a session with the other men in the college. It was a remarkable experience.  
  
Before Oxford, I had never really traveled outside of the US…outside of the midwest to be precise. School was a breeze, and most of my very large amount of free time was spent hanging with the guys, picking up girls, and getting myself into trouble. A very, very narrow little life…one that grated on me more than I can tell you…more than I ever let on. I wanted to fit in…I didn't want my friends to be reminded of how different I was…  
  
If they knew I would certainly have been treated like a pariah.  
  
In the words of Homer…Simpson not the Greek literary icon (what can I say? I have eclectic taste)…  
  
"Its the code of the schoolyard, Marge…the rules that teach a boy to be a man. Let's see. Don't tattle. Always make fun of those different from you. Never say anything, unless you're sure everyone feels exactly the same way."  
  
I guess it is time to explain what up until now I have only been hinting at. I am…according to those who monitor and rate these things…'gifted'. I have to laugh as I remember the look on my father's face when the school social worker told them of my assessment. I was six at the time, and my parents had been concerned enough about my so called 'strange' behavior to bring me in for testing and evaluation.  
  
The big man didn't flinch, only leaned forward in his chair and narrowed his eyes at the young woman sitting across from him behind a large, oak desk.  
  
"Isn't that the 'politically correct' way of saying the boy is slow…" If there is one thing about the Colonel…he is not one to mince words. I think I remember sighing and rolling my eyes…a very adult gesture and one I tried not to do as it tended to disturb my mother.  
  
"No sir…no not all in…the exact opposite in fact. Your son…he is a genius. I mean…he is off the scale!"  
  
Yup…that's me…MENSA's poster boy. Have you ever watched the news when they run those stories on grade school children whose brain and cognitive functions are working at a university level? I would be one of those little prodigies…although my gift is a bit stronger than most.  
  
A Gift…that is what everyone calls it. I wish they could understand what kind of a burden it is for a very young child. If they did they would no longer label it as such. Imagine if you will a three or four year old that can read and understand concepts that are difficult for even adults to grasp. Imagine having an intellect as developed as that of Einstein but the emotional and physical maturity of a small child. Imagine that child trying to play and communicate with other children his own age, not yet realizing that his 'condition' is not universal among his peers. That he is unique. That he is different.  
  
Kids…well…they can be terribly mean to those they consider different.  
  
I learned very early on to hide what I was. It was difficult indeed to do so…for as much as it angered me I also craved knowledge and reveled in the power my intellectual superiority gave me. My heart yearned for acceptance and normalcy while my brain cried out to be stimulated, to be challenged…  
  
It took me years to find a balance, though balance is hardly the correct term to describe it. A more appropriate description would be suppress, stifle, contain…smother…as in reality I merely managed to hide my 'gift' from the outside world. I became the arrogant, handsome party boy who everyone wanted to be…the cool jock, the ladies man. I did maintain a very high average, but it came with little effort on my part. It was akin to being a PhD student stuck in Kindergarten…I could skip the entire school year, playing truant at the local mall, and still pass with honors.  
  
Alone, however, I was a reader…a scholar. Literature was my true love and I always had a book with me no matter where I went…hidden deep within the bottom of my gym bag.  
  
In fact, to this day I always carry one around with me, its pages usually dog eared and stained from being crushed underneath several pounds of army gear. To this day I hide my love of literature and learning. To paraphrase Fitzgerald, childhood traumas 'are bitter things. They don't go according to any rules. They're not like aches or wounds; they're more like splits in the skin that won't heal because there's not enough material'.  
  
It was difficult for me growing up, even after I became popular and began to hang with the 'in' crowd, I fought a constant battle against boredom. I got into a lot of trouble trying to channel my energies into what I felt where the 'acceptable' pursuits appropriate for the person the others would like…the person I yearned to be. Sports were a great outlet…but were hardly enough to keep my mind from reaching out, crying out for more.  
  
My parents considered sending me to a special school…university even…skip the lower grade levels completely…but I fought them. I was terrified at the prospect of being thrown into a situation where I would be even more different than I was at the local public school.  
  
Oxford was the first time I let go.  
  
I was in a situation with people like myself…Academics, scholars…geniuses. I was no longer unique among my peers, my abilities and knowledge were finally considered an asset, something to be admired…not shunned. It was like I had died and gone to heaven…opening up avenues that I had only ever dreamed of back in Kansas.  
  
Not only that…I was meeting people from all over the world, seeing things I had only ever read of in books. Museums, palaces, old battlefields and historical landmarks…in my free time Nandi, Eddie and I traveled throughout Europe, taking in the sights. I wanted to see more…I wanted to learn more…it was as if all those years of fighting my intellectual abilities had created a void…a vacuum within me…and now that I had opened it up, it was sucking up everything around it with a ferocity beyond all control.  
  
I reveled in it!  
  
I knew I could never go back to my old life…  
  
And yet…my father drew me back. My family drew me back. My destiny drew me back….  
  
My time in England was not entirely spent buried in the books, although truth be told I was up to my eyeballs most of the time. I did manage to participate in some extra curricular activities such as soccer, rugby and cricket of all things. Hockey, american football and baseball were not at all popular in Britain, so I adapted and took up new pastimes…along with my newfound friend from Hawaii…Terry.  
  
Now here was a guy who was almost a big a contraction as I, although he seemed so at peace with himself…a state I have yet to achieve. As big a jock as they come, Terry was a California-granola type who was the stereotype surfer boy…blond hair, blue eyes, tanned all year round and constantly gracing his sentences with words like 'Dude' and 'Cool'. He is also a MENSA-class whiz kid who was at Oxford reading bio-chemistry. Honors Biochem at that!  
  
He was much older than I, graduated the year after I arrived, and I remember sitting with him on the side of the field watching practice and discussing his future. How surprised I was when he told me he was headed back home to join the military.  
  
"Mind and body…Dash my man…mind and body. There has to be a balance or you will end up like Eddie there…all brain and no brawn. The military will challenge both…and you and I are the type that need that kind of challenge."  
  
"You sound like my father, Ter…" I frowned and snorted in disdain, yet he merely smiled calmly before replying.  
  
"Maybe he's right…"  
  
"Come on…I don't think…" I interrupted but he ignored me…  
  
"'Everything has its own place and function. That applies to people, although many don't seem to realize it, stuck as they are in the wrong job, the wrong marriage, or the wrong house. When you know and respect your Inner Nature, you know where you belong. You also know where you don't belong …You'd be surprised how many people violate this simple principle every day of their lives and try to fit square pegs into round holes, ignoring the clear reality that 'Things Are As They Are'."  
  
"The Tao of Pooh?" It seems Terry had picked up my quoting habit.  
  
"Think about it Dash my man…think about it…in the meantime…lets go and stomp on those Brits…show them how Rugby SHOULD be played."  
  
He was right of course.  
  
I spent three years at Oxford before returning home. Somehow, when I drove up the long dirt road towards the farmhouse and looked up to take in my home it looked smaller…less…less like home. I guess I had finally reached an age where it was time to go out on my own. I stayed with my parents for two weeks…visiting old friends and hanging at the old haunts…but it was stale. No…nothing had changed in the three years I had been gone. It was I who had changed…  
  
So one day I woke up, packed my bags, kissed my mom goodbye and headed for my new life with the army. My father was thrilled…at least I think he was…if he did he masked it well behind a gruff 'why aren't you going into officer's training?'  
  
Ah well…plus ca change…  
  
So, that is my little secret…I'm a brain. Very few know about my abnormally high IQ…although I'm sure they suspect. Its just not as easy to hide anymore…and I am getting less and less likely to do so as I grow older and more confident…or conceited as Allie likes to put it.  
  
Mind you…as brilliant as everyone says I am academically, I am a complete dunderhead when it comes to social and interpersonal skills.  
  
Take the other day, for instance. God…I will be lucky if Alison even LOOKS at me when I get back! As it is I tried to apologize when we got back to base, but when I entered her room she was already asleep on the sofa, two empty cartons of Ben and Jerry's on the floor at her feet and a very VERY pissed off red head standing guard.  
  
I had no choice but to retreat.  
  
What was I thinking…I just opened my mouth an…  
  
Hold on…here comes Wild Bill with the Canucks…ready to go up again. I will have to finish that thought later. 


	8. August 26th

August 26th,  
  
She hung up on me…  
  
Ok…she insulted me and then hung up on me. At least I think she insulted me. She is so riled up she is speaking Gaelic…not a good sign.  
  
The conversation, if you could call it a conversation, went something like this:  
  
"Hey Allie, it's me…"  
  
Silence.  
  
"Ummm…just calling to see how you are doing…"  
  
Silence.  
  
"Look…babe…about the barbeque…"  
  
"Go dtachta an diabhal do chroí…thú crð stalcaire!!!! Agus mbrise cúnna tógálach do buill-ghineamhain!!!!"  
  
Then the line went dead.  
  
Oh boy…  
  
To make things worse, this whole tirade happened over an open radio frequency, as I had brilliantly asked Dial Tone to patch me through to her room after calling in my status to Hawk. Not two minutes after she hung up did I hear Wild Bill and Lift Ticket snickering as they brought their choppers up to either side of mine to give me a mocking 'thumbs up'.  
  
I don't know whether to be furious or terrified...indignant or repentant. I'm a little of both at the moment. Why is it that I have such a difficult time admitting I was wrong? Because I am a stubborn bastard, that's why.  
  
I just don't understand it! Everything had been going so well since I returned from my last mission. We hung out, played a little squash…she even beat me fair and square for the first time and I didn't even flinch. Ok…I was a little peeved, but proud as well, as I was the one who taught her how to play. I never made it easy for her…but she kept trying and trying until she finally had me on the run.  
  
She's tenacious, that woman. She just never quits. When the going gets tough she hangs in there no matter what. It's a great quality, I think…and I especially love it when I see her succeed.  
  
That little victory dance she does is very cute…  
  
…and very sexy.  
  
It took me a while to convince her to play with me. I think the reluctance arose mostly from her mistrust of my motives, although at that point we at least were getting along better. I honestly thought she might like the game. I wasn't using it as a way to get into her pants! Well…not completely…hey, I am what I am!  
  
Alison is not really the 'sporty' type. Well, no. That isn't exactly true…a more accurate description would be that she is not the team sports type. She does the individual thing…tennis, running, golf (yes golf…I saw the clubs myself although she denied they were hers when I teased her about hoity-toity country clubs).  
  
She does sail, which I would say is a team sport given the fact that there is a crew involved, and from the trophies displayed in her room I would say she does it well. Still, if you put her on a baseball diamond and shove a bat in her hand she wouldn't have the slightest idea what to do…nor would she care. Basketball? She is fast as lightening but has yet to grasp the concept of 'passing' and 'dribbling'.  
  
And then there is soccer…one of the few games she will sit down and watch. She even managed to get Cover Girl and Scarlett hooked, although Courtney is a certified sports fanatic and would probably have watched the matches regardless, all the while complaining that it was cutting into baseball season. How surprised I was to find Lady Jaye glued to the set for the World Cup three years ago, her Scotland shirt worn proudly and her eyes burning with the fever that strikes almost everyone during this international match.  
  
I was even more surprised to find out she has absolutely no clue as to the rules or dynamics of the game. How so, you might ask? Well, take this little conversation I overheard between her and Scarlett.  
  
"Did you watch the game yesterday?"  
  
"Oh yeah…number 08…the guy in on the red team…"  
  
"oh yeah…"  
  
"mmmmm….he had the nicest legs…"  
  
"…and those eyes…"  
  
As I was saying…not the 'sporty' type.  
  
Its funny…now that I look at the list, those are all 'moneyed' sports…so very 'high-society'. She even rides horses! Me, I am your average American sports fan…football, baseball, basketball, hockey…you name it, I play it. I like the social nature of team sports, the camaraderie…the 'testosterone bonding' as Cover Girl put it so bluntly during a game of 'pick up' one day.  
  
I like to win, of course…it's an ego thing, as is everything with me. Jaye…well, she likes to win because she is trying to prove something to herself…constantly pushing…challenging her body…stretching herself to the limits. When she does something, it is never half way…and she always, ALWAYS has to come out on top.  
  
One time, after a particularly rough squash match, I asked her if she could just try to chill out and enjoy herself. She turned to me with a look of surprise on her face and replied…  
  
"If you don't play to win why play at all?"  
  
Needless to say she is very competitive, a trait that makes her come off as a bit aloof and harsh when you first meet her.  
  
Speaking of aloof and harsh…back to the matter at hand…the reason I am in the doghouse.  
  
We were at Stalker's annual BBQ…and Marvin, Lonzo, Hector and I had finished our meal and were sitting back on the porch, sipping our beers and enjoying the late afternoon sun. Allie was next to me and was busy chatting with Cooper when Stalker's youngest…a little guy barely able to walk yet, started moving towards her.  
  
Before I go any further I should explain that Alison is, for all intents and purposes, terrified of children. She is more relaxed handling live explosives than she is among the diaper-clad denizens of nursery school. You should have seen her tense when we got out of my car and she saw the half dozen kids running around on the front lawn.  
  
"Oooo look Jaye," I said in an amused tone, "anti-personnel toddlers…don't get too close now, they might take you out!"  
  
The look she gave me certainly wiped the grin off my face quickly enough.  
  
I guess I just have a hard time understanding her apparent aversion to children. All right, aversion is a very strong word…her uneasiness around them is a better way of putting it. Woman and kids…kids and women…two halves of the same whole, right? Allie is the first woman I have ever known who 'lacks' the desire to become a mother someday.  
  
Or is it that she doubts her ability to be a good mom? God knows her own mother did quite a number on her, and from what she has told me her grandmother is just as bad. She is convinced it's genetic.  
  
Whatever the case I have a hard time accepting this particular neurosis, having grown up in a huge family where kids were a constant feature on the landscape. I am an uncle many times over and most of my cousins are now proud parents. I love children and really have no problems taking care of them. I can change a diaper (had a crash course in it when one of my sisters in law saddled me with the twins) almost as well as I can handle my shotgun.  
  
That isn't to say I am going to be a shoe-in for father of the year when the time comes to have kids of my own…and I do want kids some day…I am just as nervous as the next guy. As Ray once told me after another sleepless night tending to a sick child, every weakness, every shtick, every little imperfection in your character is magnified one hundred fold when you have a kid…and I needn't tell you I am chock full of those.  
  
But where I am nervous, Jaye is petrified.  
  
I should have known better than to say what I did, especially after the warning glare…but seeing her freeze as the little guy crawled towards her and motion to be picked up, well, I guess I just couldn't help myself. I blame the alcohol…damn stuff always manages to speed up my mouth while at the same time shut down my brain.  
  
After she politely refused Stalker's offer to let her hold the kid, I grabbed him, swung him on to my lap…and joked that her biological clock was defective among other choice comments.  
  
Remember the levels of hell I described early? Well, with that little comment I immediately shot her right down to the fifth…'do not pass go do not collect two hundred dollars'. As the guys and I laughed at my ill- conceived witticism, from the corner of my eye I watched as she struggled in vain to maintain control over her temper. It was a lost cause.  
  
She snapped something about me being lucky that she was malfunctioning in that area or she would have forced me to get over my fear of commitment long ago among other choice words before walking off in a snit.  
  
Ouch!  
  
So what did I do? Well, being a guy…and a pretty stupid one at that…I laughed it off and let her go. I certainly wasn't going to beg for forgiveness in front of the others, although I really, really felt terrible the second the words were out of my mouth. I had hurt her…I had betrayed her trust and made light of one of her deepest insecurities in front of her colleagues.  
  
If she had done that to me I would have been furious…but no matter how much I push her she has never betrayed my secrets to the others. Privately she never holds her punches…but when we are among friends, as much as I might deserve it, she never uses what I tell her in confidence against me.  
  
The more I think about it the more dreadful I feel.  
  
I honestly didn't mean to be so malicious…I guess I just wanted to tell her to chill…to calm her fears by pointing out how ridiculous she was being about the whole thing. I was out of line and I knew it, but I was too damn proud to admit it.  
  
"You are going to do it aren't you? You are bound and determined to screw this up."  
  
That is was Roadblock said to me as she stomped off. He looked pretty pissed, and as usual wasn't about to let it pass. He has always had his nose in my personal life in one way or another since I met him, but lately he is taking a more active role.  
  
"Even after everything that has gone down, you are still going to do your best to see that she walks right out of your life? Of all the stupid, stubborn ass things I have ever seen you do, Dash…this has got to take the cake."  
  
"God Marvin, would you lighten up. Who died and made you Dear Abby?"  
  
At that he threw up his hands.  
  
"I give up…"  
  
I did try to apologize…twice in fact… The problem was by the time I got up off my ass she had already caught a ride home with Clutch and Crankcase. Which left me stuck driving Jack and Blaine back to base. Thank god my car is fast, for I think I would have lost it had I heard one more millisecond of the Picard versus Kirk debate going on in the back seat.  
  
Before I even made it down to the residence level I was pulled aside by Wild Bill and told of my new orders. I had exactly one hour to pack and leave for Canada. To add insult to injury, as I mentioned before Scarlett decided that this was the perfect time to confront me on my 'destructive' relationship with Allie, which only served to make me furious. She wouldn't even let me into the room, preferring to attack me in the hall so that Jaye could sleep off the 'trauma'.  
  
And here I thought Alison was melodramatic!  
  
By the time I lifted off on the chopper, I was so worked up I nearly flew right into some power lines.  
  
Enough of this, I am making myself crazy. Shakespeare once said, "Wise men ne'er sit and wail their loss, but cheerily seek how to redress their harms."  
  
Hopefully she will give me a chance to do so.  
  
She will make a great mother someday…I know she will. Hey…after putting up with my juvenile behavior, a kid will be a synch!  
  
Authors Note: Loose translation of what Lady Jaye said to Flint over the phone…  
  
"May the Devil choke on your heart, you bloody fool…and the hounds of hell gnaw on your genitals!" …Don't ask 


	9. September 1st

September 1st,  
  
Those damn snakes were here.  
  
On our base.  
  
IN OUR HOME!  
  
How dare they attack us! How dare they bring the fight to our door! The thing is, if I were in Cobra Commander's shoes I would have done the same thing.  
  
"The art of war is simple enough. Find out where your enemy is. Get at him as soon as you can. Strike at him as hard as you can and as often as you can, and keep moving on." Somehow I cannot see the Commander taking advice from the writings of Ulysses S Grant.  
  
Regardless of his motivation, he is getting too bold…although courage is not something I would attribute to a man that sends androids into battle in the place of soldiers. Give me a battle where I can see the fear in my enemy's eyes…not the cold and mindless brutality of automatons.  
  
How the hell did they find us is what I would like to know? And while I am on this line of questioning, how the hell did they get past our radar?  
  
Thank the gods that Spirit was on guard. I won't even attempt to tell you I understand his unique 'abilities', but I am grateful to have him on our side.  
  
I am so furious I am shaking. The adrenaline is pumping through my veins even now…I want to attack, to fight, to kill those bastards. The only thing keeping me from pummeling the next thing I see is Allie's still form sleeping beside me, her arm draped across my chest, her face buried in my side…the soft rise and fall of her chest calming me…grounding me.  
  
I hadn't been back twenty-four hours before I heard the wail of the perimeter alarm. Our mission in the North had been a success, resulting in the arrest of several Vipers and civilian COBRA agents who had been running weapons into the US by way of Canada. The RCMP had been impressed by our work and in their gratitude had presented us each with a Team Canada hockey jersey. First, though, they tried to recruit us…and needless to say we politely turned them down.  
  
"I reckon I would have too much trouble getting used to yer heavy accents…" Wild Bill had told a group of stunned Mounties, his face serious.  
  
"OUR accents?" One of them answered, staring at the Texan in amazement.  
  
I couldn't suppress a snicker, which sent Lift Ticket into fits of laughter. Wild Bill merely stood there scratching his head.  
  
"What did I say, y'all?"  
  
I brought back a gift for Jaye as well…a stunning little walrus tusk carving of a polar bear and her cub. I bought it from a native craftsman I had met during a recon in a small Inuit village near the Beaufort Sea. She loves this type of thing, her father having instilled in her a deep and far- reaching appreciation of the art and artifacts of indigenous peoples.  
  
It was meant to be a peace offering, although I did not get a chance to give it to her until we had already kissed and made up. Mind you, it took the attack to bring us together again…otherwise I would most likely be chasing her around the PITT right now, trying to get her to talk to me. Ironically, it was a similar situation a few years ago that brought the two of us together in the first place.  
  
We were stationed at Fort Wadsworth at the time, a large military installation on Staten Island just outside of Manhattan. Although the Joe team made full use of the extensive facilities the base had to offer, our true home lay underneath it, in an underground compound known simply as 'THE PITT".  
  
It was a secure headquarters, hidden away from prying eyes whose location was classified 'top secret'…only those who were members of the team knew of its existence. Despite these precautions however, one faithful spring day the entire structure was destroyed in a surprise attack.  
  
It was only through sheer dumb luck that more people weren't killed in the incident, as the team had recently been forced out of the PITT and out onto the base itself due to some budgetary decision made by the brass higher up. Even then, we barely survived.  
  
Luck also played a hand in the somewhat advance warning we received when Lady Jaye and I spotted COBRA EELS coming up out of the water in a remote part of the base. That we happened to be there at that precise moment was guided by the hands of fate I suppose, for it certainly wasn't guided by mine!  
  
You see, at that point in our relationship…I doubt I could even call it a relationship back then…the two of us would more likely be avoiding each other like the plague than strolling through the park.  
  
I am not quite sure as to which one of us caused the unfortunate situation between us, although I suspect my behavior was the root of most ill will. I am not the easiest person to get along with, and I tend to come off as a little arrogant to those who don't know me. My constantly hitting on her probably wasn't helping matters either, but I have to add that Lady Jaye was anything but an innocent bystander.  
  
Far from it!  
  
For the first few months of knowing her I considered her a snobby, haughty, aloof, cold little bitch…and with me she was certainly that! She tried to avoid me but I wouldn't have it, making sport of getting her riled up and angry. The arguments we used to have were legendary…and it got to the point where the other Joes began to place bets as to who would end up killing the other first. I needn't point out that Jaye was leading in the polls.  
  
Conversely, as much as I hated her, I was fascinated by her as well. I watched her with the others and envied the familiar, lighthearted, personable relationships they shared. She is an intelligent and caring woman with those she calls her friends, and is always the center of attention at Joe social get-together's, moving easily around the room, quick to smile and laugh, her eyes bright with amusement and full of life. She has a sharp tongue as well, as I had experienced numerous times, but it is tempered by a deep loyalty and a good heart.  
  
Not to mention the fact that she is very attractive…and god knows I wanted her in my bed at least once. It was a challenge I took up with glee…and after having been shot down in mid stride by Cover Girl, I was looking for a little action. Of course, Courtney had been my first choice. I mean…who could resist a former runway model who knew her way around cars! Those legs…oh boy…I gave it my best shot, but gave up after she tried to kneecap me with a monkey wrench.  
  
In the meantime, Jaye was creeping into my thoughts more and more as I began to wonder why I was never privy to that friendly side that all the others knew well. Why was it the minute she saw me her eyes went cold? Why is it every conversation we had turned into an argument?  
  
Ah, the romantic in you is thinking to yourself…"he is falling for her"…in truth I was not. My thoughts had nothing at all to do with 'love'…some 'lust' yes…but not love in any sense of the world. It was truly only curiosity that drove me again and again to seek her out. She was an enigma I needed to figure out. She presented a challenge my inflated ego just couldn't resist.  
  
That sunny afternoon in the park at Fort Wadsworth was one of the few times I had caught her alone, and of course I used the opportunity to turn on the Faireborn charm. She looked at me strangely for a moment before sighing in exasperation and shaking her head.  
  
"I don't believe in hidden assets, Flint…"  
  
The comment struck me as odd, although I rolled with it and continued my assault until we were interrupted by the attack. Hidden assets? What did she mean by that? What was it that she saw when she looked at me?  
  
I got the answer to that question later on that evening as we walked among the rubble that was once our home.  
  
When Jaye spotted the invading force, I knew in that instant that we had to warn the others at all cost. I also knew that out here in the open, unarmed and unprepared, we would be gunned down the minute they spotted us heading back to base. So what did I do, I ordered Jaye to head back and leapt out of our little hiding place in the bushes to distract the EELS.  
  
I understood my actions to be futile. Very likely I was going to end up dead…but I knew it would buy her just enough time to get word to the others. She realized what was apt to happen to me as well, I saw it in her eyes when I announced my decision, but before she could protest I was off and running.  
  
They beat me up but good. I might be strong but twelve against one are pretty much impossible odds. I was knocked unconscious for a while, only to wake up and find a lone EEL leaning over me with a knife at my throat. I was in an intense amount of pain, my arm felt as though it had been wrenched from its socket, but somehow I found the strength to fight back…killing the COBRA agent with his own blade.  
  
I hurried back to join the fighting…ignoring my wounds the best I could. I must have looked pretty bad because when Jaye saw me she rushed over with a look of worry on her face, then didn't leave my side the entire battle. I even caught her watching me from time to time, as if making sure I was all right.  
  
Obviously she had never seen me fight before. These aches and pains were merely a nuisance, nothing more…and at that point I was practically berserk with fury over the violation of my home and the threat to my teammates. Anything that came close to me went down in a hail of gunfire.  
  
She sat with me afterwards as Doc tended to my wounds, watching me quietly from across the room, her eyes narrowed slightly in a look I have come to know as 'concentration'. It was as though she were trying to catch a glimpse of something so fleeting that she wasn't certain she had actually seen it.  
  
Was she waiting to see me cry out in pain, to see the great and macho Flint cower in the face of his injuries? The adrenaline that had kept me going was now fading, along with its analgesic effect, but I was loath to let her see me even flinch. She was making me uncomfortable, and I was about to offer up some snide remark but for once the connection between my mouth and my brain was functioning properly and I held back.  
  
Then, that night, as we walked back from the temporary headquarters Hawk had set up in the base gym, she asked me if I had ever been afraid.  
  
I don't quite remember the context of the conversation, as it was I was so taken aback by the quiet annoyance in her voice, by the question itself, that I wasn't quite sure what to answer. A million egoist comments came to mind immediately, and from the look on her face I knew she was expecting something of the sort, but instead…I told her the truth.  
  
Yes…I have been afraid. I didn't add that I had been afraid the moment I made the decision to attack that troop of EELS barehanded, but I knew that she could tell that very thing from my tone.  
  
She looked so stunned by my response that I nearly chuckled at the expression on her face…but her next words trapped the laughter in my throat.  
  
"I was beginning to think you were really stupid."  
  
Stupid? Me? That is the first time anyone has ever used that word to describe me. Overconfident, yes…temperamental, yes…proud…definitely. But never stupid! It was then that I realized what she had meant when she had said 'hidden assets'.  
  
It seems that I had developed this 'Flint' persona so well that no one ever caught sight the man underneath. She had no idea as to who I was…the only thing she saw was an arrogant big mouth soldier…and she was in no way enamored of him.  
  
That was why she was staring at me so intently in the infirmary. Somehow she had caught a glimpse of Dashiell…and it had thrown her.  
  
I don't know what happened then, I have no idea what possessed me but as I saw her walking off, this woman who pretty much despised me…this woman who annoyed me to no end…this woman who at that point meant very little to me…a work cohort who I wanted to bed, something slipped out.  
  
"…you may relish him more in the soldier than in the scholar." I whispered. It was a simple quote from Othello, but one that spoke volumes of who I was…of my insecurities and my foibles…of the reason I was the way I was.  
  
I didn't expect her to understand the meaning behind my words…if anything I guess I wanted to impress upon her that I was far from stupid. Why did I care? I don't know…I certainly never cared if anyone else saw me as a numbskull, having struggled to hide my gift for so long…but being confronted with the accusation head on I was left wondering as to the wisdom of my little paranoia.  
  
She stopped, turned and stared at me for a moment in silence. Not the angry silence I was accustomed too…where I braced for the onslaught of insults to come…but one of astonishment.  
  
Then she opened her mouth and spoke the words that changed everything.  
  
"Men should be what they seem; Or those that be not, would they might seem none!"  
  
Now it was my turn to look amazed. Not only had she picked a quote that was from the very play I had just referenced, but she had chosen one that fit the situation perfectly, that reflected a very perceptive, if not complete, understanding of my words.  
  
We stood there in silence, each contemplating this new facet of each other that we had just uncovered, each lost in our own thoughts. Finally, I broke the stillness.  
  
"I could use a coffee and a handful of aspirin right about now…" I smiled shyly as I admitted to her that I was in quite a bit of pain indeed. "Care to join me?"  
  
I remember her eyes narrowing in suspicion for an instant before she sighed and flashed me a tired smile. "Coffee sounds good to me…"  
  
As I have mentioned before, that day marked a turning point in our relationship…and before you start jumping to conclusions and suppose that she fell into my arms then and there, you should know that it was a year before we made that jump.  
  
No…this moment marked the beginning of a very strong friendship. Alison is the only woman I can truly count as one of my very close friends. My best friend, in fact, when all is said and done. Before meeting her, the women in my life would have been classified as 'would be lovers', 'lovers', 'former lovers' or 'mere acquaintances'. Allie pretty much broke the mold.  
  
We began hanging out together more and more…and as time went on I opened up to her in a way I hadn't done in a long while…and in return she shared with me as well. That is not to say that we didn't fight like cats and dogs at times, but it wasn't with the same malicious fervor that we used to.  
  
I still flirted with her, as I continued to find her extremely attractive…and no one ever implied that I was transformed overnight! I was still very much the egotistical ladies man we all know and love. Nevertheless, when the opportunity finally arose I was a bit reluctant to make the jump to lovers. I was worried that it might very well destroy the friendship we had built. A friendship I well and truly value.  
  
As I lie here with her in my arms, I can't help but paraphrase Albert Unaterra…  
  
"Friendship with Alison leads me closer to who I always wanted to be but could not be without her. Likewise, I lead her closer to who she always wanted to be but never would have been without me. This is what friendship is. Any other relationship is no more than kin to friendship. Inexplicably, friends need each other to realize their collective identity, and each is one important catalyst to the other."  
  
I need her friendship and support…it is as if she is part of me as I am a part of her…'a single soul in two bodies' as Aristotle would say. We make each other whole.  
  
When I came to her room after the battle today, I found her scribbling madly in her journal. She tried to ignore me but I would have none of it. I had seen the silent tears streaming from her eyes and I would not be turned away. I knew in my heart she was remembering the battle at Fort Wadsworth…I knew she was remembering that night.  
  
I gently wiped the tears away and whispered words of apology and shame, of tenderness and caring…of need.  
  
Yes need.  
  
I needed her to hold me as much as she probably needed to be held. And so it came that I am here in her arms. Neither of us was in the mood for the 'physical' though. We merely needed to be close to one another…to hold each other. As Lao Tzu once wrote…  
  
"To love someone deeply gives you strength. Being loved by someone deeply gives you courage."  
  
After the day we had had, we needed all the strength and courage we could get.  
  
And yes…I said the 'L' word. 


	10. September 7th

September 7th,  
  
That bloody bastard!  
  
If he thinks for one instant that this is over between us he has got another thing coming! When he gets back he is going to get a piece of my mind.  
  
Conrad had a lot of nerve doing what he did…hell, he calls ME a glory hound. If that isn't the pot calling the kettle black I don't know what is…  
  
Meanwhile I can hardly write, my hands are so bruised up from the abuse I just put them through in the gym. I don't know, I just needed to hit something…to hurt something. I guess I should thank Gung Ho for pulling me away from the punching bag before I did any real damage to myself.  
  
He and Leatherneck took me out for a beer in the hopes of calming my nerves, but I couldn't shake my anger and sat brooding over my pint.  
  
Damn him.  
  
First he steals the show here at the PIT by single handedly taking charge of the situation and pulling off an impressive rout of the enemy invaders. Sure, I was a little jealous, but I am getting used to Duke stealing the limelight every chance he gets.  
  
Then he refused my request to join him on the pay back mission! But that isn't what has me so infuriated…not by half.  
  
When I found out from Roadblock what he was planning I immediately made my way to his office to get the details. I guess I just assumed I was to be included, as it was only to be a few soldiers making the trip…all three of whom were my good buddies…and two of whom were my teammates from before Joe even came about.  
  
To say I was incensed when Duke told me I wasn't invited would be putting it mildly. When I found out he was taking Allie instead I lost it.  
  
"What?! I don't think I heard that correctly…I could have sworn you said you were taking Lady Jaye on this mission and not me."  
  
"There is nothing wrong with your hearing, Flint…" Duke continued to pack his things as I stood to the side, glaring.  
  
"You know damn well I should be going on this recon…you, Roadblock and I have been a team forever…this is MY kind of fight and you know it."  
  
"You don't think she can handle it, is that it? I am sure she would be interested to hear that little tidbit…" he said as he flashed that maddening pretty boy grin.  
  
"Shut up, Conrad…don't put words in my mouth. I'm her partner…I should be there to watch her six…"  
  
"I can watch her six perfectly well, Dash."  
  
"I am sure you will," I sneered, and Conrad's eyes flashed anger.  
  
"I am going to ignore that comment. It's the bloody anger talking again. When are you going to learn to control that temper of yours?"  
  
"When people like you stop stepping all over me!"  
  
He sighed and rolled his eyes. "She is perfectly capable of taking care of herself, Dash…you have seen her in a fire fight…she can hold her own. I have heard good things about her from you and the others…I thought it would be nice to include her on this to see what she can do with my own eyes…"  
  
"I never said she couldn't…but you are going to make her jump out of a plane at night and she is…" I paused as the last bit of his sentence clicked in and I realized what he was up to.  
  
"You BASTARD! I ASKED you to leave her out of it! I TOLD you to leave her out of it!!!" Conrad had the good sense to look ashamed as I bore down on him, but he didn't budge and inch.  
  
"You don't get a vote."  
  
"Like hell I don't! You aren't going to have her, Duke…not for that…not ever…"  
  
"Damn it, Dash…calm down." He gestured sharply, cutting me off "We need someone like her and you know it. You are letting your feelings for her get in the way of impartial judgment. I warned you not to get involved with…"  
  
"Well I did, and so what? I am still one of best soldiers your little team has ever had and you bloody well know it. Besides, she and I have kept things professional…"  
  
"Like the time you allowed that COBRA infiltrator to get away from the PITT with a very expensive piece of equipment because you were too busy sucking face!" He was angry now…things were going to start getting dirty.  
  
How the hell did he know about that?! No one but Jaye and I knew what happened that night. At least that is what I thought…I should have known Duke would find out. He bloody well finds out everything in the end. It's the nature of his job…our job…the one we did before the Joe team.  
  
A job you can never walk away from. It pulls you back in…no matter what it pulls you back in.  
  
"That has nothing to do with it Duke,, and you know it." I growled, "Leave her be…"  
  
"I can't"  
  
"YOU WON'T"  
  
"I CAN'T DASH…" He yelled, slamming his fist against his desk, "We need her…"  
  
"That's bullshit and you know it…find someone else."  
  
He didn't answer me…but looked away.  
  
"I'm warning you Conrad…you and I have been friends for a long time, but so help me if you…"  
  
"So its come down to this then…all these years of friendship…all these years working together and watching each others backs…and you are willing to throw it all away." He laughed but there was no humor in the tone, "You're getting soft…domestic"  
  
If any other person had said that to me they would be on the floor unconscious. But this was Duke…he and I have been through hell together. He saved my life once. He was my friend. Instead I merely clenched my fists and narrowed my eyes in anger.  
  
"And you are getting ruthless…" I hissed.  
  
"This from a man that once slit a ki…" He stopped mid sentence. No. No matter how bad it got between us things like that were NEVER discussed. Ever. It was an unspoken code among our kind. What happened on a mission never happened.  
  
We glared at each other from across the room for what seemed like an eternity, each lost in the memories from the past as we tried to remember that we were friends…teammates...'brothers'.  
  
"Please Conrad…I am going to ask you one more time. " I paused and took a deep breath, "I have followed you to hell and back without question. For once in your life just listen to me! Call them off…Promise me you will call them off."  
  
He had the sense to at least look ashamed.  
  
"I cannot make that promise."  
  
With that I stormed out of his office and slammed the door behind me. There was nothing more to say.  
  
What the hell am I going to do? As much as I am loath to admit it, Duke is right. The decision has been made and there is nothing I can do but hope…pray…that Alison has the sense to turn him down.  
  
But you didn't…did you Dash? All you saw was the glory, the adventure…the challenge. You were so excited when Duke first approached you. You couldn't wait to get started.  
  
How young and stupid you were. How naïve.  
  
The things I have seen. The things I have done…I shudder to remember it all. There are nights when I wake up in a cold sweat…remembering. Alison doesn't understand…although I am sure she wonders what it is that causes the stoic Flint to cling to her at night, holding her tight until the shaking stops.  
  
She doesn't know…and I can never tell her.  
  
I can never explain to her what it means to be a member of 'The Black". How can she even begin to understand what it is like to put your humanity aside in the interests of a mission so top secret that not even the President knows about it? GIJOE is a cakewalk compared to what I used to do.  
  
What we used to do.  
  
Conrad, Marvin and I, we all carry scars from the operations we were ordered on…emotional scars that are suffered in silence. Who can we talk to? For all intents and purposes none of it ever happened. We never even discuss it amongst ourselves!  
  
I cannot let Alison live through what I have lived through. Sure, she has the ability…she is a fantastic soldier…but as much as she tries to hide it I know she has too much heart for this line of work. What Duke will ask her to do will end up tearing out her soul.  
  
I know…it tore out mine.  
  
But how can I convince her if I cannot tell her the truth? I am bound by honor never to speak of it. I cannot break that trust. I will not break that trust.  
  
And yet if I don't she will think I am belittling her abilities and her anger would end up driving her straight into Duke's hands. She is already fuming; having overheard some snippet of the 'conversation' I had with him…  
  
…could it be that this was his plan along?  
  
I went looking for Marvin before heading for the gym. I found him in his room packing his gear, quietly humming a gospel tune I recognized immediately. He hums it before every mission…it is a prayer of sorts…a prayer to keep him and his team safe and bring them home alive.  
  
He didn't even turn around.  
  
"I will watch her, Dash…I will bring her home safe and sound."  
  
"How do I stop this?"  
  
He paused for a moment and sighed. I wasn't talking about the recon and he knew it.  
  
"You can't. There are some things in life that are beyond our control. Of all people I thought that you would know that."  
  
"She won't understand…she doesn't know what it means to join this brotherhood."  
  
"Neither did we…but we did it. We survived. She will as well…"  
  
"I feel so…helpless."  
  
He turned around and faced me, flashing a sad smile.  
  
"Sometimes, my friend…we just have to step back and trust that the people we love will make the right choices."  
  
That's Marvin for you…the quiet voice of reason. Too bad my anger was stoked so high by that point or our little chat might have prevented me from killing myself in the gym.  
  
Eisenhower once said he hated war as only a soldier who has lived it can, only as one who has seen its brutality, its futility, its stupidity.  
  
I love being a soldier…but there are days that I hate what I do. I have learned over the years that there is no glory in battle, and that it is a fine line we travel between honorable justice and mere strong-arm brutality. Will the history books call us heroes or murderers? Only time will tell.  
  
I know I cannot stop Alison from accepting Duke's offer, anymore than I can stop him from offering it. All I can do is sit idly by and watch as this all unfolds.  
  
I was never any good at being idle. 


	11. September 12th

September 12th,  
  
I had a dream last night.   
  
Thoreau once wrote that 'dreams are the touchstones of our character'...if that is the case I must be a very boring person indeed. I usually sleep like a log, and if I do dream the images are lost to me when the alarm goes off in the morning.   
  
I have always considered this a blessing, for given my nature I would most likely be plagued by nightmares. As it is when I do 'dream'...if you could call it that...they are most often vivid recollections of actual events in my life. I needn't tell you it is not the pleasant memories that are dredged up by my subconscious!  
  
As I have mentioned previously, there are times when I wake up screaming from the events my mind recalls.  
  
In any case, last night was different. At first I thought it was a simple remembrance, as the scene was familiar in a strange way. But as it unfolded, I realized that certain details...subtle nuances...were different.  
  
I am standing in a cemetery...the day is gray and damp, and I remember pulling my coat tight around me to drive out the wet cold. The rain is coming down lightly but persistently and there is water dripping off the rim of my hat. In a few more moments I am sure my dress uniform will be soaked through.  
  
It is quiet. The only sound that of the minister's voice droning and the rustle of the wind blowing through the trees that surround us. Around me are my teammates...all dressed in their best...all equally wet and miserable, while in the distance I can see the American flag flying at half-mast. There is a lone man standing on a hill far to the right...Black Watch, I note as I notice his traditional highland garb.  
  
I remember thinking to myself 'this must be Ito's' funeral' as the familiar feeling of loss washes over me. Quick Kick was with the Joes for such a short time, but he really wormed his way into the hearts of those he worked with. He had a way of drawing out even the sourest of characters, getting them to crack a smile at his good-natured teasing.   
  
I was one of the first people he worked with when he joined the Joes, and although I was a bit taken aback by his unorthodox gear (who runs around barefoot with no shirt on in the middle of a battlefield?) I soon looked past it and marveled at his abilities. I can fight...but like Lady Jaye I am more of a brawler...no finesse. People who master the martial arts, well...I have always admired them. I lack the patience for it.  
  
In any case, back to the dream. I'm at Arlington.   
  
You know, it doesn't matter how many times I have been to the place...how many of my fellow soldiers I have buried...it never, ever gets easier. If anything...it gets worse. You keep thinking to yourself...how much longer until it is I they are honoring? How much longer until my luck runs out? As I look at my companions standing about, heads bowed...I know they are wondering the same thing.  
  
Suddenly the mournful sound of bagpipes cut through the silence and I look up to see the lone Black Watch soldier playing a funeral dirge. Was there a piper at Quick Kick's funeral? No...and come to think of it, it wasn't raining.   
  
I begin to feel a bit confused...a bit afraid. I fight the emotion down, as I am certainly not going to let the others know that I am anxious...not even in a dream. But there are some people I can never fool.  
  
I remember feeling Roadblock's hand on my shoulder, steadying me...steadying himself as they began to lower the coffin. Pain and sadness shot through me like a knife and unconsciously I reached out to grab a hand...her hand.  
  
But all I grasped was air.   
  
Suddenly, I felt my heart seize in a frenzy of panicked beating as I quickly swung my eyes around to find her missing from my side. Where is she? I wondered as I began to search the crowd.   
  
It was then that my eyes fell upon the small gray monument and took in the name etched in the stone.  
  
I woke up at that moment...disoriented...lost...empty...   
  
It took me a full ten minutes to calm my heart and reassure myself that it was only a dream. Even then the uneasiness continued to haunt me throughout the day, so much so that I was beginning to become frustrated with what I saw as my own idiocy. Here I was, a man grown...a soldier...a Joe for Christ's sake, and I was letting myself be distracted by a mere fantasy. You can well imagine that this little inner conflict, combined with the simmering anger caused by the situation with Duke left me a tad short tempered.  
  
Was it any surprise then that I snapped at Duke the minute he and his team descended from the transport?  
  
So intent was I in our little 'tete a tete' that I did not notice the odd look on Jaye's face, the slight unsteadiness to her gait, until I turned around to find her collapsed in Roadblock's arms, moaning in pain.  
  
I am not a religious man, nor am I the superstitious sort, but that moment...that very second...the dream came back to me and I honestly thought...no, BELIEVED...that it was a premonition...  
  
...I thought that Alison was going to die right there and then in Marvin's arms, with me standing over her with a look of complete terror on my face.  
  
I am sure both Lifeline and Duke though I had lost my mind as I paced about the examination room like a mad man...this after I panicked and rushed a semi conscious Jaye to the infirmary in my arms. In fact, I didn't believe Lifeline when he first told me that she was going to be fine, and although he looked amused as I kept hammering him with questions, I was sure he was irked as well. No matter how long he has been with the team, or how he has proven himself a worthy successor, I know he fights a constant battle against our memory of Doc. In retrospect, I should have told him that I used to drive Doc crazy as well. That time Jaye went down in Iowa the good doctor banished me from sickbay!!  
  
It's funny, when Snake Eyes went ballistic at the hospital in New York it was I who pulled him aside and lectured him about not taking out your hurt on other people. If he could have seen me yesterday I think he would have shook his head in quiet exasperation.   
  
He tried to tell me then...even as Scarlett lay in a coma with no hope that she would ever wake up...he tried to tell me. I wouldn't listen. I played dumb...for all intents and purposes at that point I was dumb.  
  
And yet it was so clear...it was so very, very clear.  
  
Sometimes, as Virginia Woolf once wrote, 'it is in our idleness, in our dreams, that the submerged truth sometimes comes to the top.' Last night that truth was practically shouted across my subconscious...I love this woman.  
  
Not only that...I was IN love with her.  
  
That very same dream also drilled home the precise reason why I can never succumb to that emotion. Why I can never tell her.   
  
Yet as I lie here next to her on this narrow little hospital bed, watching her sleep (every so often checking to make sure she is still breathing...yes...I'm an idiot), I can't help but remind myself that, like a fool, I succumbed to it long ago.   
  
I think it is because the whole thing snuck up on me...gradually building so that by the time I actually noticed it was already to late. It wasn't like the last time...which hit me full force the first time I laid eyes on the woman in question. Love at first sight, I guess...although I know now that there is no such animal. Learned that lesson the hard way.  
  
No...my relationship with Alison was a slow and steady escalation, an unhurried buildup of trust and friendship...of affection and love...so that before I knew it we had been together for four years and despite the denials, my heart was hers.  
  
I am a master of denial, however...as it was some time after we became lovers that I realized what was happening...and some time after that realization that I admitted those feelings to myself.  
  
Oh god...what is she reading? Could it be?  
  
"Claire Randall is leading a double life...she has a husband in one century and a lover in another...blah blah blah...James Fraser, a gallant young Scots warrior shows her a passion so fierce and a love so absolute that Claire becomes a woman torn between fidelity and desire..."  
  
It is! Great googly-moogly, it's a romance novel! A bodice ripper! Oh boy...I can't wait for her to wake up...I am so going to enjoy teasing her about this. This stuff is like porn for women!  
  
Hmmm...it's set in Scotland. That figures for despite her East Coast upbringing, Allie is a Scot through and through...right down to her accent, her temper and her capacity to hold liquor. In fact, her father named her Raonaid...the gaelic variation of 'Rachel'...although from what she tells me that was relegated to an initial when her mother decided that she should be named for some long dead Hart matriarch.   
  
Another little Highland quirk of hers, as I discovered one fall evening, is that she has a thing for men in kilts!  
  
What an evening that was...I don't remember ever having a better time! We had just completed a hugely successful mission in Scotland where we obtained the much sought after plans for COBRA's terrordrome. We had to work side by side with Destro in order to accomplish this goal...something I was not very keen on...but as a soldier you learn to take whatever advantage that presents itself.  
  
This was the first time Lady Jaye and I had been teamed up together, and I am sure I have mentioned already that it was a really good fit. That is not to say we didn't have I our moments...she was a little too friendly with Chrome Dome if you ask me...but at that point we were pretty close friends and I understood her motivations even if I didn't show it.  
  
In any case, here we were, finished the mission and ready for a night at the pub. Allie had contacted her cousins and through various contacts had managed to wrangle tickets to see the Chieftains at the Red Lion. She had gone on ahead, having left me to wrap some of the paperwork while she stopped by to visit with relatives, and I was to meet her at the pub with Sgt Day and Jingles in tow.  
  
"You aren't going to wear THAT now, are you old boy?" Jingles stated as he looked me over with a critical eye. More than a critical eye...to this day I am convinced he was hitting on me.  
  
What can I say? I'm irresistible!  
  
I was a bit taken aback by the comment, as I thought I was dressed quite nicely. A pair of black jeans, a nice black shirt...I was ready to hit the bar and pick up some local lassies!  
  
"You look like you are about to go clubbing in London, chap. This is Scotland and we are going to see the Chieftains..." Day nodded his agreement.  
  
"Wait a minute...you can't possibly mean..."  
  
The next thing I knew I was in a jeep and on my way, feeling a very cool breeze in area of my body unfamiliar with that particular sensation, and red faced with aggravation and embarrassment.   
  
A skirt...they've got me in a skirt!  
  
Ok...a kilt...borrowed from one of the other officers. I was dressed up in the whole nine yards...the sporran, the brogues, the wool socks, the skindoo...on top I was wearing a tight fitting black shirt (which, I dare say, showed off my physique quite well...vanity thy name is Dashiell).   
  
All I remember thinking as we got closer and closer to our destination was that I was about to be laughed right out of the bar and that Lady Jaye is never going to let me live this down! That and, 'oh crap Jingles is eyeing my legs'!  
  
I was going to be the laughing stock of the Joe team for the next few months I just knew it. The cross-dressing jokes are going to be flying fast and furious.  
  
Well...was I in for a surprise!  
  
First off, when we arrived I scanned the bar only to discover about 90% of the male patrons were dressed in similar garb. Huge sigh of relief.  
  
But more unexpected than that was Alison's reaction.   
  
I tensed as she approached me from the other side of the room, stopping short as she took in my new look. I braced for laughter...but it never came. Instead, I looked up and saw something burning in her eyes...something I had rarely seen before. Was it? It was!  
  
Desire.   
  
I swallowed hard as she licked her lips while she looked me up and down. For a moment I didn't quite no what to do, but it soon passed and I decided to take advantage of the situation with a little teasing.   
  
"I bet your itching to find out if I am wearing anything underneath..." I smirked as I saw her eyes darken. That smile certainly disappeared quickly when I heard her reply.  
  
"Is that an invitation?"  
  
To say that I was thrown off by this would be a gross understatement. I mean you have to understand...up until that night she had shot me down every chance she got. We were friends, and although I continued to flirt, I was just getting comfortable with this kind of relationship. I had never had a girl who was 'just a friend' before...it took me a while to adapt.  
  
Now she had thrown out a curve ball and I wasn't quite sure how to react. Mind you, she didn't give me much of a chance as she turned and headed back over to our table before I could reply.  
  
We all had a wonderful time, however. Good music, dancing, drinking...her cousins were a blast. Super sense of humor and very easy to get along with. It was obvious that the three of them were very close...almost like brothers and sister...complete with the sibling tendency to tease and roughhouse.  
  
Jaye's unusual behavior continued on and off for the rest of the night. I would catch her staring and me from across the table, and then once, while I was chatting up a red head at the bar, she came over to order drinks and muttered something under her breath in Gaelic before sauntering back to the others.  
  
As she was leaving, the girl...who I am sure I would have charmed into my parlor given a little more time...looked at me oddly and made her excuses before wandering off. The bartender just laughed as he poured me another Guiness.  
  
"Ach...laddie...that lass of yours has got ye on a short leash..."  
  
"Leash? No...I don't think so...and she's not my lass. She's just a friend...a worki..."  
  
He cut me off with a broad smile.  
  
"Believe what ye will, lad...but the Lady Burnett just staked her claim as bold as brass. Being a gentlemen I willna repeat what she just said to the Daergh that left, but I dona think ye will have much company tonight!"  
  
Needless to say I sought Allie out immediately, and was swept onto the dance floor as soon as I reached her side. Now, I am not a bad dancer, but Jaye...she is something to watch! Professionally trained from the moment she was able to walk, the woman moved with a grace and fluidity that mesmerized. Dancing WITH her was even better...there was something sensual...almost sexual...about how we moved to the music.  
  
Somehow I found my voice.  
  
"What did you say to that woman?"  
  
"Which one?"   
  
"You know which one! You said something to her and she took off like a bat out of hell..."  
  
"Did you ever think that maybe it was your sorry lines which drove her off..."  
  
"Hey...my material is tried, tested and true. No...the bartender said you scared her off. "  
  
"She's not your type."  
  
"Not my TYPE? Since when have you taken an interest in who I chose to date..."  
  
"...sleep with..."  
  
"whatever...although thanks to you I am most probably going to be sleeping alone tonight."  
  
At that she smiled mysteriously.  
  
"Don't count on it."  
  
"Wha!?" but she was off with Sgt Day before I could get another word out.  
  
I didn't get a chance to confront her for the rest of the evening, as we were both too busy dancing and mingling with the locals...but the bartender had been right. I couldn't get any of the other female patrons to even flirt with me. Irksome to say the least, but at that point I was too distracted by my partner.  
  
She looked beautiful that night. Who am I kidding, she always looks great, even in cammies...but that evening the sudden change in her attitude made her all the more appealing. Look, I'm a guy...opportunity was knocking and god knows I certainly wasn't going to turn away.  
  
That said, as I walked her back to her room, I couldn't stop repeating the same lines over and over again in my head.  
  
"She's just a friend...it's the alcohol talking...don't screw this up, Faireborn...keep it in your pants... be a gentleman for once in your life."  
  
I tried... I really, really did...but she pulled out the big guns as I turned to leave her at her door and I knew I was as good as gone.  
  
"So what ARE you wearing underneath that kilt?" she smiled a sultry smile as she moved towards me, and before I knew it we were rolling around naked in her bedroom.  
  
And so began the physical side of our relationship. I recall being a pleasantly surprised by her confidence in the bedroom. I guess I always thought she was a bit of a prude. She did have a short moment of indecision and shyness right at the beginning, probably because I was too shocked to react to her sudden and very forward advanced...but that ended as soon as I collected myself enough to turn the tables and become the aggressor.  
  
It was a wild ride...and from that evening forth it has been just her and me. It wasn't planned that way. I made it very clear, as I always do, that this was temporary... light ...not commitment...just for fun, and she agreed. I honestly thought that it would fizzle out the moment we touched down at the PITT after the mission...that we would go back to being just friends.   
  
It never did...and eventually, one terrible, wonderful night in the Caribbean...it ceased to be just sex and became something much, much more.  
  
I guess you might call it the 'point of no return', but I think that happened more recently, and that is a moment I would rather not recall...  
  
She is mumbling something in her sleep and I just bent over to kiss softly on the head. I know I am not going to be able to rest tonight. Lifeline might have convinced the others that it was just a mild concussion and that she could sleep safely now that he has done the proper tests, but I remain skeptical. Jaye NEVER shows pain...ever...she's like me that way. For her to fall over in that hallway meant something serious was wrong. If I have to I am going to stand watch over her until the sun comes up.  
  
Sigh*  
  
Duke was right, Fairborn...you are going soft.  
  
At least I have something to read. I should pick up Kundera before this Gabaldon chick messes with my literary sensibilities.  
  
...and I will...right after I finish this chapter... 


	12. September 17th

September 17th,  
  
It's been pretty quiet the last little while. Unfortunately for members of the Joe team, quiet does not mean free. If anything, there is more work to do when COBRA is lying low than when they are shooting mortars through our front door.  
  
It might surprise some of you to learn that COBRA is not always on the offensive. There are long periods in which there is little if any overt activity on the enemy front. That is not to say the Snakes aren't sitting in wait, eagerly planning their next move. On the contrary.much time and effort is spend on gathering and analyzing information so that we can be ready for.and in some cases prevent.a strike.  
  
On top of that, there is the everyday work that keeps this outfit running. Maintaining old equipment, training on new equipment, upkeep of the base itself, keeping yourself in top form and of course, keeping up with the mounds of paperwork that inevitably find their way to your inbox.  
  
So although I haven't seen any action since I last wrote, I certainly have been anything but idle. First there was the weekly maintenance check of the choppers, then the monthly inventory of our weapons stockpile. I went off base for three days to renew my pilots qualifications and when I returned was immediately ushered into a 24 hour meeting marathon with Hawk and the other Joe leaders.discussing everything from budget to tactics, the mess menu to new recruits.  
  
All of this while trying to keep up with a cruel physical training schedule and make a dent in the rather imposing pile of unfinished business sitting on my desk in the office I share with Duke.  
  
Is it any wonder that I value every second of my time off?  
  
I managed to grab a moment to myself yesterday, and as usual I made my way up to the surface to spend some time with my pride and joy.  
  
My car.  
  
She is a beauty. A red Shelby COBRA 427 convertible, complete with racing stripes, fully restored to her former glory with some extras added on for good measure. A Ford V-8 shoved into a British roadster, when it was released in the 1960s, the machine just blew away every other car on the road. 0-100 in only 14 seconds..top speed of 165 mph.and that straight off the dealers lot!  
  
Only 356 of these were ever built, and I own one of them. I actually bought it when I was still a teenager, a little while after passing my drivers exam. It was an absolute wreck, a rusted out shell that I was able to get for a little more than 1000 dollars.  
  
When my father saw it he laughed. My mother just shook her head. It didn't even have a set of wheels much less a working engine.I had brought it home on a flatbed I borrowed from the garage I was working for at the time. Oh yeah.I worked the pumps for a little while, all the Faireborn boys were expected to go out there and pay their dues the minute they reached their teens. No idle boys allowed around the Colonel!  
  
I loved working at old man Walker's garage. He taught me everything I know about cars and engines.and instilled in me a love of the vintage automobile that is still going strong to this day. Driving, tweaking, repairing, restoring.you name it.a nice masculine pursuit that certainly defused my father's tension at my choice of degree and school.  
  
It took me years, and I think I dropped every dime I earned into her, but eventually she was made roadworthy. Then, when I returned from England and joined the army, the increased income allowed me to gradually finish her off, seeking out original parts whenever I could find them, until she became the beauty she is today.  
  
The envy of collectors.  
  
351 Ford Windsor 400 HP engine, Holley 4 barrel carb, and a 4 speed gear box on the inside.on the outside a chrome roll bar, Haibrand racing wheels, split chromed bumpers, and the coup de grace.chromed side pipes. Just last year somebody offered to take her off my hands for a cool quarter million. I refused.she is mine. I just couldn't part with her.it would be like parting with a piece of myself!  
  
I have tuned her until she practically purrs.continually adding to her already impressive power and performance. They say that a man's car is just an extension of his favored organ.I will not dispute this.nor, I think, will Allie. Not now, at least.but when I first met her and bragged about it she certainly dragged me down a notch quickly enough.  
  
"You know what they say about guys with great sports cars?" I smirked as she glared at me from across the motor pool. She was busy trying to change a tire on one of the Jeeps. Unsuccessfully I might add.  
  
She knew.knows.absolutely nothing about cars, although admittedly she is learning. She sits with me now while I work on my baby, quietly reading a book or writing in her journal as I fiddle with the engine. I do enjoy her company, and try to teach her a bit of what I know regardless of the fact that she doesn't retain any of it. She still insists on calling my car a Mustang, which it most certainly is not! It's a Shelby American. I have lost count of how many times I have corrected her, so much so that I think she just does it to tease me.  
  
Anyhow, back to the flashback. I had asked her if she knew about the thing with guys and their cars.  
  
"And what's that, Flint? Is it a substitute for an obvious deficiency in other areas?" She didn't look up.  
  
"No, it is a reflection of his prowess in bed."  
  
"You mean fast?" She quipped.  
  
Steeler, who had been sitting quietly on a tank erupted into laughter.  
  
"Man Flint, only three months on the team and you've already been shot down by two of its women. You're on a roll."  
  
"Two?" Lady Jaye looked up from her work and I could have sworn I saw a flash of jealousy in her eyes.  
  
"Oh yeah.Courtney chased him out of here with a tire iron last week."  
  
"Really?" Jaye just looked at me, the expression on her face saying all to clearly.'male chauvinist pig.'  
  
"It was a wrench.and I am not giving up on our resident beauty queen just yet.she just needs a little time to think about it."  
  
"Is that all you ever think about.women and cars?" Jaye growled.  
  
"What else is there? " She sighed as shook her head and went back to her work, ignoring me for the rest of the afternoon.  
  
Poor Allie. I was an absolute jerk towards her. She really saw the worst side of me back then. Well.not the worst.that came much, much later on a mission that I would rather forget.  
  
Mind you, she wasn't much of an innocent herself. There were times that she put me in my place.and hard. No mercy, no quarter.like the Porsche incident, for example. I don't think I will ever live the humiliation down. Not that I didn't deserve it. On the contrary, I was fully responsible for sparking the whole damn situation. As usual though, Jaye took it to the nth degree.  
  
I was joking with her about woman and cars.and how the two are like oil and water. I think I mentioned that she would never be able to handle my roadster, and if she was ever going to go looking for a car of her own she should probably stick to something small and Japanese.like a civic.or maybe a Toyota of some sort.  
  
Heavy Metal, who had been sitting with her and going over the subtle nuances of the MOBAT, shrunk down the turret as Lady Jaye swung around and let loose. Oh man, was she fuming. She tended to get a lot of flack for her reckless driving from the other Joes.she is a bit of a maniac behind the wheel. Of course, I didn't let up.her high and mightiness had been getting on my nerves all day and I was itching for a fight. After all, that was the day Courtney shot me down once and for all, and my leg was still killing me from the whack I took with the damn wrench.  
  
So what did I do? I gestured towards the tank and mentioned that maybe it would be best if she stayed away from the heavy equipment.  
  
"Isn't that right Sherm? I mean, you certainly are no Cover Girl!" Well.that did it. She froze in place and just eyed me from where she stood. I am certain that had she been any closer she would have belted me.  
  
"No.I'm not," She hissed, "I would have aimed the wrench slightly higher."  
  
And with that she stormed off.dragging a stunned tank jockey behind her.  
  
At that point I didn't know her very well at all, otherwise I would have realized the battle was far from over. I would have known that something was coming.that the wheels were turning even as she left the motor pool. Instead, I tried to banish her from my thoughts and continue along my jolly way. Then, exactly a month later when I had completely forgotten the whole incident, she unleashed her masterpiece.  
  
Revenge, they say, is a dish best served cold.  
  
It was a cool and sunny Saturday morning and I had just finished washing my car when I saw her approaching. She looked over the vehicle, running her hands along the side as she circled it, before coming to a stop in front of me.  
  
"You know I have never actually seen you drive this thing. Does it actually move or do you simply push it in and out of the motor pool?"  
  
"Oh it moves." I laughed, "Don't you worry about that."  
  
"I was beginning to think it was just a flashy accessory. What did you tell me the other day? It makes up for obvious deficiencies in other areas?" She smirked, her eyes sparkling in amusement.  
  
"You know what I said.you want to take ME out for a spin and find out the truth?" I grinned evilly and waited for her 'inner harridan' to emerge, but I was disappointed. She ignored my remark and continued.  
  
"I would love to see whether or not you are all talk and no action."  
  
"Hey.I just offered." I was rewarded with a narrowing of the eyes but she regained her composure quickly enough. I should have been forewarned.  
  
"I was thinking more along the lines of a race."  
  
I spit up my coffee in surprise "A race?! You're kidding"  
  
"You.me.high noon today on the airstrip"  
  
I laughed.  
  
"So dramatic! You can't be serious, you don't even own a car and besides."  
  
"I own a car."  
  
".and besides" I continued, chuckling into my mug, "you'll lose. I wouldn't want you holding a grudge after I show you up."  
  
"You afraid to race a woman, Flint?"  
  
"No.I'll be there. But don't say I didn't warn you." I leaned into the car and flashed her my award winning smile "and to show you I am a such a good sport, I will even give you a head start."  
  
So there I was, sitting at the wheel of my Cobra all cocky and confident, waiting for her to show up. Word of the event had gotten round and the entire team had shown up to watch, as well as some soldiers from the regular force stationed at Wadsworth.  
  
I looked good.the car looked good.I was going to blow poor Jaye right out of the water.  
  
At least that's what I thought.  
  
"Ummm.Flint?" Bazooka approached me as I sat with my engine idling at the makeshift start line. "Jaye said to tell me you still have time to pull out and save face."  
  
"Tell her royal highness that I will see her at the finish line. Where is she anyhow?"  
  
"She ready, but she is starting from further back. Said she didn't need a head start to out drive a.ummm.something in Gaelic.man like you."  
  
"Fine, if that's the way she wants it.she'd better get ready to eat some dust along with her words. Cue the start."  
  
Cover Girl sauntered out into the middle of the runway to the hoots and whistles of the peanut gallery standing around us. She raised the flag with one hand, while with the other giving Clutch the finger.and then dropped it and I was off in a surge of power.  
  
I tell you.my car is a powerhouse!  
  
Unfortunately, in this case it was not powerful enough.  
  
Suddenly, out of nowhere, this black Porsche 911 pulls up next to me and slows to match my speed. The top was down and as I looked over, my face fixed in what must have been an expression of complete and total shock, Lady Jaye winked, mock saluted, and then proceeded to match my every move.  
  
She stayed there for a while, flying around the turns at dangerously high speeds. I was pushing my car to the limits.my skills to the limits.trying to beat out the piece of expensive German engineering that was glued to my left side.neck and neck. I could feel the car fighting me.the centrifugal force on the turn trying to rip control from my hands. I was taking risks I wouldn't normally take.crazy moves that could very well end up damaging my car.myself..yet as I turned my head to check my mirrors she was still with me.matching every move.  
  
Then, in a flash so quick that I hardly know what hit me, she just took off in a vapor trail of smoke and dust. Damn woman had been holding back.taunting me!  
  
I met her at the finish line as she was getting out of her car.  
  
"What were you saying about my driving skills, Flint? Hmmmm?" she purred, "You know what they say about women and their sports cars."  
  
She smiled that maddeningly smug little smile that she used when she knew she had you by the balls. The Joes around us broke out in hearty laughter.  
  
It was humiliating. I was furious.but at the same time reluctantly impressed. Sure the car practically drove itself, nevertheless it took some skill and a lot of guts to take a curve like we just did.to run so close and at such high speeds, where one wrong move would send you spiraling to a very painful end. She had earned my grudging respect, but I didn't tell her until months later. Instead I stomped off into the night, my tail between my legs.  
  
We went for a drive in that very car this evening.mine being up on the lift. I hadn't had time to finish it before she managed to distract me into a little illicit tickle fight that threatened to get quite intense. Good thing Cross Country and Cover Girl started whistling and jeering, for we had forgotten for a moment where we were.  
  
The rain had cleared up.so we took the top down and she let me take the wheel, even though she knows I have yet to let her touch mine. I don't know why that is.and upon close examination I realize I am being ludicrous. I am sure Psyche Out would have a field day analyzing this one.  
  
I still can't believe she went out and bought a car like that on a whim. Incredible! I had heard at the time that she came from money, but I hadn't realized until that moment just how much.  
  
Even AFTER getting cut off from the Hart family fortune, she still had enough to drop what must have been at least a hundred grand on a car without so much as batting an eye.  
  
But that is a whole other story and I am struggling to keep my eyes open. I need sleep in a big way! I have early morning drills with Beachhead at 05:00 then I have to get packed and ready for my latest assignment.  
  
I better get Jaye up as well. I know it's late and she is out like a light, but she needs to go on duty in about an hour. First, though.I need to mentally prepare myself.  
  
.She is one crabby female when she is woken up! 


	13. September 20th

September 20th,  
  
I got a chance to spend time with my eldest brother today. I haven't seen him in a dog's age, both of us usually stationed on opposite sides of the country and so completely overwhelmed by our military responsibilities that we rarely have time to visit.especially Ray, who spends most of his free moments with his family.  
  
His wife Lynn welcomed me into their home in Norfolk with open arms, although I barely had a chance to say 'hello' before I was accosted by his three girls all looking for gifts. Needless to say I didn't disappoint.  
  
"You spoil them, Dashiell." Lynne tsked as she ushered me into the kitchen for a coffee.  
  
"Hey, that's my job, in fact my DUTY as the favorite uncle."  
  
Ray was going to join us later, as he was busy at the base. A naval Captain, he is one of the family's two squids. John is a top gun Commander.a flyboy currently posted to Pensacola, Florida where he is kept busy training new pilots.  
  
I haven't talked much about my family. I guess I'm not altogether sure where to start. In one sense, there isn't much to tell.we are your typical American family.close knit and loyal to a fault. At 33 I am the youngest of four boys.Raymond as mentioned previously is the oldest at 50, then there is Mickey, our resident Jarhead who is 46 and the proud father of twin boys. John is 42 and married with two kids and one on the way.  
  
My mother, Rose Faireborn.nee Jacobs.also comes from a large family. Three sisters, including the irrepressible Aunt Betty, who loves to meddle in everyone's personal life and plays the guilt card like a pro.  
  
My parents were wed in the late 40's after a quick romance and have been married ever since.almost 50 years now! At first the whole relationship was anything but blessed by the two families. Rose is of Jewish extraction while my father is Anglican. Rose's father.my grandfather.who had passed away long before I was born, nearly disowned my mother over the whole affair. In the end Dr Jacobs was all talk and no action.a crotchety old man with a kind heart.  
  
The Faireborns were not thrilled either at first, regardless of the fact that she converted. Mind you, it was all a superficial prejudice.one born of ignorance rather than dislike.and as the two clans got to know each other any hostility soon abated. By the arrival of the first boy all hard feelings were lost and eventually the two families integrated so well that when we all gather together at the annual family reunion it is hard to tell where the Jacobs end and the Faireborns begin.  
  
Strong and able women run both sides of the family. Despite our complete macho, arrogant testosterone charged nature.we are all whipped by the Faireborn and Jacobs females.  
  
My mom is a tiny woman.barely 5 foot 4 inches and slight of build, its hard to imagine her being able to stay sane in a household full of loud, obnoxious boys.all over 6 foot tall.but looks can be deceiving. She ruled the family with an iron fist.even kept my father in line. She expected all her boys to be polite, help around the house, and stay out of trouble. No gender specific division of labor in this household.we all knew how to cook, clean and do our own laundry almost as well as we knew how to run the lawn mower and shovel the walk.  
  
She would never have to raise her voice, only glare at you with her 'death ray' vision and you would be sent running. If she called you by your full name you were a goner!  
  
I remember once when I was younger I decided, in my infinite wisdom, to climb up onto the barn roof with some friends.an activity that was strictly forbidden by my parents. To add to the situation, one of the boys.Paul I think it was.had snatched a pack of his old man's cigarettes and of course, being curious and stupid.we all decided to choke back a smoke.  
  
Well.we had just begun to relax our guard when one of the others spotted my parent's car pulling into the driveway.  
  
So what did I do? Rather than face my mother.who would certainly skin me alive.I took off with the others as fast as I could. Of course, in my panic I failed to watch where I was going and ended up falling off the damn barn and breaking my arm in the process.  
  
There I was, in shock, the breath knocked right out of me, my arm at an odd angle at my side with my parents hanging over me, my mother holding a pack of cigarettes in her hand and eyeing the butt that had fallen from my grasp on the way down, landing conveniently near my prostrate form.  
  
I think my arm was less painful than the month long grounding that I had to endure!  
  
I could tell you that I had learned my lesson.but I think most of my young adult life was spent getting in and out of trouble.  
  
.or butting heads with my dad.  
  
Ah.my father.the great Colonel David Faireborn.a man of few words but great presence. Intelligent and powerful, handsome even now in his early seventies.when he was younger he and his brother Robert were the most popular boys in town. Both served their country as army officers during World War II, fighting side by side in the European theatre.and then the war in the Pacific where my Uncle Robert made the ultimate sacrifice at Iwo Jima.  
  
I don't think my father ever recovered from that war. He returned to Wichita a changed man. My mother and his sisters did much to draw him out of his shell, but still it haunts him. He is a hard ass.tough as nails but with a good heart deep down under all the bluster. He was strict but fair.and set the bar quite high for his boys, expecting no less than excellence from all of us. Mind you, the man who raised me was different from the one my brothers all remembered. I was just unlucky enough to come along at the wrong time. As Leo Tolstoy once wrote, 'All happy families resemble one another, each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.' Every family has its skeletons.every family has its down times and tragedies. This is ours. I am actually the fifth child.not the fourth. I had an older brother.Thomas Faireborn.who I have never met. My brothers all knew and loved him. He was the golden child.the apple of my mother's eye and my father's pride and joy.  
  
Barely out of West Point when the he was called out to serve his country in 'Nam, Tom was one of the first American's to fall in that long and terrible war.  
  
My mother was inconsolable.my father.well.my father was devastated. War had taken his brother and now it had claimed his firstborn son. You would think it would have helped that about a month after the funeral at Arlington my mother discovered she was pregnant again.with me.  
  
It didn't.  
  
My whole life I had to compete with the memory of Tom. To make matters worse, I looked just like him and as I grew up I came to resemble him more and more. For my parents it was like seeing a ghost.a living, breathing reminder of what they had lost. The thing is, in my father's eyes I wasn't as tough, I wasn't as strong. I was different. I was quiet and liked to read. I was too smart.wise way beyond my years and although he never said anything I think it scared him a bit. I know it freaked my mother out.  
  
But mostly.I just wasn't Tom.  
  
It was never said to me directly.my father is a hard man, but he isn't cruel. He does love his boys and I think he loves me too. It doesn't matter, though.I knew I disappointed him. I felt it. And it killed me.  
  
My father is like me.or I am like my father. We keep our emotions in check; we present a strong front to the outside world even if we are dying on the inside. We are proud and stubborn.foolish in a way. Despite his loss, my father watched as Ray and then Mickey both made their way to Vietnam as they turned 18 and didn't so much as bat an eye. In his mind it was their duty.they were soldiers, as all Faireborns were before them. They would serve, and if it were so dictated, they would die for their country. My mother was less patriotic about the whole thing but could not dissuade either of her boys. She was strong though.she held up through it all and managed to make it through the pain.  
  
However, you never get over the loss of a child. Memories of Tom continue to haunt them to this day. So much so that we hardly speak of him, and if we do it is in hushed tones so as to not upset my father. Sometimes I even forget he existed, if it weren't for my brothers keeping his memory alive I would hardly know him.  
  
They tell me he would have liked me. That I am actually like him in many ways.the 'spitting image' as Aunt Betty likes to say.  
  
I should think so. For years I molded myself to his image.to be the son my father so longed for.to bring Tom back to him. No matter what I did, it was never good enough. So much so that in the end I pretty much gave up and rebelled.becoming the trouble making teen who drove my parents to distraction.  
  
Even now when I am home visiting I feel as though I have failed him in some way. Even though he knows what I do for a living, knows that I am a top member of an elite team despite the fact that the Joe is secret (my father is well connected in the military), he still finds something to needle me about, whether it is my rank or my personal life.  
  
Ah yes, my personal life.the source of much debate and concern amongst my family. I am the only one still unmarried, although I tried that once.to say that it was an utter failure would be a laughable understatement. I don't share that side of my life with my family, and although Marvin let slip to John about Lady Jaye a couple of years ago, I have sworn him to secrecy and so far he has been true to his word.  
  
The rest of my family doesn't know, and I would like to keep it that way.  
  
It's not that I am ashamed of Alison. Far from it! Nor am I ashamed of my family.although I dread to think of what little quip my father will come up if I ever introduce them. He rarely likes anyone I bring home, not that I have brought many to meet them. He certainly disliked Karen. He will probably relegate Allie to the 'snobby East Coast WASP' category and write her off. He has no patience for the moneyed class, thinks they are a bunch of lazy, self-important cowards. The fact that Allie's family is also a rank and file member of British aristocracy.albeit a minor one.would just add fuel to the fire.  
  
It's a weak excuse, I know. If anything it's all in my head, a result of one of my antiquated 'rules of dating'. I think it is number two or three.just before the car shopping taboo and right after the moratorium on using the word 'love' in any conversation.  
  
"Thou shalt not take her home to meet thy parents nor shalt thou go and meet hers"  
  
Ah, the life of an avowed commitment-phobic, or at least a reformed commitment phobic! The woman has slowly chipped away at my 'Ten Commandments of Dating' one by one.  
  
In any case, that's my family, take 'em or leave 'em. Despite everything I wouldn't change them for the world. Not a one.not even my father. As Evelyn Waugh once observed you should not hold your parents up to contempt. 'After all, you are their son, and it is just possible you may take after them'.  
  
As for my brothers, I would have to say I am closest with John, who is nearest to me in age and who was home when I was growing up. Everyone loves Mickey, its hard not to.he is just a very kind hearted, easygoing guy. Ray and I are so far apart in age that we might as well be on different planets.but nevertheless we are brothers and look out for each other as such.  
  
We all look out for each other. We are close in a way that transcends friendship or blood. In the end, who is it that knows you, truly understands you, better than your brothers. As someone once told me, they are 'the only people in the world who know what it's like to have been brought up the way you were'.  
  
Anyhow.back to the present.  
  
I sat a while with Lynn.sipping on some coffee and bringing her up to date with my comings and goings. Ray's wife is a lovely woman. His high school sweetheart, they have been together as long as I can remember. God.she bloody babysat me while I was still in diapers! She knows me pretty well, as well as any other member of my family. Maybe better.  
  
At least well enough to start pestering me about settling down. She merely smiled at my attempts to change the subject.  
  
"I can't wait to meet her."  
  
"There is no one to meet."  
  
"Yeah, right." She turned as her husband came through the door "Raymond, Sweetheart.I think little Dashy here has got himself a new flame"  
  
"So, what else is new?'  
  
"How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that." I moaned dramatically as I got up and embraced my brother. "Tell your wife to quit badgering me."  
  
"I will.as soon as I figure out how to get her to quit badgering ME."  
  
"It'll never happen." She smiled as she turned to leave us alone to catch up, "When are you boys going to learn that it is your fate as Faireborn males to be ruled by women?"  
  
"In my case.four" he indicated to his girls who were sitting in front of the TV watching a movie. "Come on, Dash.let's get out of here and grab a beer before we drown in estrogen."  
  
I had a good time with him, catching up on the family news and reminiscing on old times. It wasn't long, though, before I had to make my excuses. I was only in Norfolk for the evening and was heading out with Wild Bill at first light. It was a standard supply run, and seeing Lift Ticket was away on leave I was volunteered for the job. It's not very glamorous but these things have to get done.  
  
Seeing Ray and his family always gets me to thinking about home. While I always look forward to heading back to visit the folks in Wichita, I can't say that I feel like it is my home anymore. Not that I don't feel welcome...its just that a man needs to establish his own little nest after a certain age. My brothers all did it...they all have homes of their own now.  
  
So, that begs the question 'where is my home?' Oxford was fun but not permanent in any sense of the word. I lived in California for a while but that period in my life has been erased from my memory. The army moves you around from base to base so often that sometimes it seems a waste of time to bother unpacking. You get used to it, but at the same time you yearn for a place to hang your hat.  
  
One thing you do discover in the military, though, is that it's not the place that matters.it is that you are with your friends and family. The latter is more 'home' than any fixed address.  
  
Marvin, Conrad, Snakes, Scarlett.the Joes are like family.and Jaye.Allie.when I am with her I am home.  
  
"Where we love is home, home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts."  
  
God...you have it bad Flint. What the hell are you going to do about it?  
  
What I always do...nothing.  
  
Coward!  
  
Or better yet, in the words of my favorite uncle, Frank...  
  
"What a schmuck!" 


	14. September 28th

September 28th,  
  
It's 4 o'clock in the morning, and I am sitting here in bed completely exhausted but unable to sleep.   
  
I get like this sometimes, so wired from the events of the day that I can't seem to switch off. It didn't help that my meeting with Hawk and Duke ended up running well into the wee hours of the morning.  
  
Hawk looked more ragged than usual. There is a lot of pressure mounting from the Pentagon and the White House to cut our spending, and there are even those who would love to see us shut down once and for all regardless of the fact that COBRA remains a very real threat to our freedom and well being.  
  
Unfortunately, the politicians and bureaucrats who hold the reins of power in this nation prefer to turn a blind eye. If they have nothing tangible to gain from our continued existence, and when I say tangible I mean either votes or campaign money, then why make the effort? It doesn't matter that we bust our balls and risk our lives every day to make sure that these idiots can continue to lead the lives that they do...attending White House functions and playing at that age old pastime...politics.  
  
You can probably tell from my tone that I hold the above-mentioned types in contempt. I have not patience for their little games, their hunger for power and money, and their complete detachment from reality.   
  
Sometimes I wish I could shove a rifle in their hands and lead them into battle. Show them what we face everyday...show them what lies in wait should they become too complacent. Let them stare down the Dreadnoks, let them face Destro one on one, let them go head to head with Cobra Commander and see if they survive his bite.  
  
Knowing the type of people of which I speak, they would more than likely cut a deal to which both parties would benefit.  
  
I love my country, I serve my president...but I tell you this as one who has seen the dark underbelly of the beast...Washington DC is far removed from the image of the proud and honorable Red White and Blue we learned about in school.  
  
Duke says that I am jaded, judging the whole government based on the actions of a few bad apples. What does he expect? He has seen what I have seen...he has been given the same orders...he knows what these men are capable of!   
  
Much of what we did was in the interest of national security, but I can't help but wonder sometimes if the situations we were called in to deal with...the people we were ordered to 'erase'...were not in some way created by the very same men who now sought us out to clean up their mess.  
  
"Stop moralizing, Faireborn. We have our orders...just do it."  
  
Conrad said that to me on our first mission together. I had just been recruited into 'The Black' and was completely unprepared for the hard reality of the job I was so anxious to do. My prior training that stressed following orders without question battled against my conscience.  
  
In some cases against my very humanity...  
  
I needn't tell you which side won out. There was a reason I was called out so many times. There was a reason they thought of me as one of the best.   
  
Duke, who had already been through quite a few of these forays and for all intents and purposes was an 'old hand', became my mentor. He pushed and prodded until he made me realize whatever potential he saw in me when we first met at Fort Bragg so many years ago.  
  
I wonder sometimes what it was that prompted him to take me under his wing. I would like to believe that it was my abilities as a warrior that caught his eye, and I am certain that initially it was just that. However, given the nature of our work, I have a feeling he saw something hidden deep inside me that he could use to his advantage.  
  
The only word I can think of to describe it is as 'a darkness'. Conrad drew it out of me then channeled it, tamed it...used it when the situation merited it.   
  
Do I resent him for it?  
  
There are some days where I do, but for the most part no.   
  
He did what he had to do, what any good leader would do...use what he has at his disposal to ensure the successful completion of the mission. He also knew how to draw out whatever it takes for his men to stay alive, to make it home safely. It is what makes him the well respected, much sought after field commander that he is.   
  
I nearly didn't make it back that first time out...I hesitated at a crucial moment and it damn near cost me my life. Had Duke not been there I would be resting six feet under at Arlington right now.   
  
Duke did what he did so that I would survive...both physically and mentally.  
  
I became hard, cold, calculating. My temper...my anger was channeled expertly as I learned to turn off my conscience and do what needed to be done.  
  
The problem, however, was that the 'darkness' cannot be tamed. Duke had successfully brought it closer to the surface, but once there it took everything in me to keep it under control. It takes EVERYTHING in me to quash my memories and rein in the side of my nature that allowed me to do what I did.   
  
No one knows how hard I fight to remain in control. I can't afford to slip...I have already done so once during my stint with the Joes and I will regret that day for the rest of my life I am sure. Louisa May Alcott once wrote that it took two 'flints' to make a fire. In my case...it takes only one.   
  
I can't believe how lucky I am that I didn't loss everything that day in Sierra Gordo.  
  
It scares me sometimes...the thought of letting go of my emotions. Not just anger...but hurt, sadness, fear...anything that might trigger the release of the demons that haunt my being, the darkness that I fight every day to contain.   
  
'How sublime a thing is to suffer and be strong'. I can only guess that Henry Longfellow was on the outside looking in when he wrote these words, for if he was the one who was doing the suffering I doubt he would find anything inspirational about it.  
  
Roadblock and Duke don't seem to be as affected by our common history as I, but then again I came into it with my own personal baggage. Duke just cultivated the seed that had been sown long ago.  
  
Moreover, who knows what personal demons the two of them battle. Roadblock seems so at peace with himself that it is hard to believe that he might be caught up in some inner struggle, while the face that Duke show the world is that of the composed, consummate professional.  
  
What secret have they found to hold back the pain, the memories?  
  
And yet appearances can be deceiving. Just look at the man that I present to those that I work with...to my friends and colleagues. Can they even guess what lies beneath? And what of the other Joes? It isn't like our job is easy. Soldiers who have seen combat all carry scars...and not necessarily physical ones. We all deal with it in our own way...some better than others.  
  
Even Snake Eyes, who carries more pain and hurt than all of us put together, manages to live his life, although I can see the shadows in his eyes when we sit together. I know them well, as I am sure he can see the same thing reflected in mine. Maybe that is why we hit it off so well from the beginning, kindred spirits in our silent misery.  
  
Joseph Conrad once wrote of a heart of impenetrable darkness, the savage that lies hidden beneath all of us...the animal that is just barely contained within our cloak of civilized humanity.  
  
It takes something primitive, something hard and disturbing deep inside to be able to kill a man...even in the heat of battle. Not all soldiers have it, and among those who do, the ability to control it is rarer still.  
  
Even so...the pressure of keeping the darkness in check is enough to drive a man to the bottle. Just look at the vets who returned from Vietnam...look at my father, who after all these years still fights a constant battle in his mind with his experiences during World War II.  
  
That is where someone like Psyche Out comes in. There is a reason we are all forced to see him regularly, whether we like it or not. Not only is he there to help and listen, but to assess our psychological and emotional ability to continue to do the job for which we were recruited. I needn't tell you that there are many Joes who did not make it through their first year on the team precisely because Psych did not deem them able to handle the stress.  
  
I myself don't talk to him much. I reveal nothing to him other than mere frivolities and he knows it. As I have mentioned at the beginning of this Journal, it drives him around the bend.   
  
My pride keeps me from showing him or anyone any hint weakness, but I also fear that if I begin to talk of what I have seen, what I have done, how I feel...the trickle will turn into a flood and I will speak of things that should remain unsaid.  
  
No. I cannot risk it. Especially given the sensitive nature of what my memories contain.   
  
I wonder what he would think of me if he knew the things I have done.   
  
I wonder what Alison would think of me.  
  
In any case, back to the present. The meeting. Duke and I are on speaking terms again...barely. He knows how I feel about his plans for Lady Jaye...he knows that he is going to have a fight on his hands if he ever tries to draw her in to that game he plays so well.  
  
For my part, I know that he will not back off if he feels she is needed to complete a mission, if her involvement would ensure it's success. Duke is a master of keeping his personal feelings out of his work. He has to...both as Field Commander of the Joe team and as a "former" (I say this tongue in cheek) Black Ops agent.   
  
I, on the other hand, let things get personal.  
  
We have a strange relationship, he and I. We are opposites in almost every way, but we stick together like glue. We compete ruthlessly, yet we seem to thrive on the rivalry.  
  
Two sides of the same coin.  
  
'Light' and 'Dark'.  
  
You would think I would dislike him...avoid him...given my wary attitude towards friendship. You would think he is precisely the kind of person from whom I would distance myself, that he was using me, that he would betray me.   
  
He wouldn't though...at least not deliberately. He looks out for his men...he looks out for his friends. Ask anyone who has serve under him and they would tell you they would give their life for him. He would give his life for them as well.  
  
How many times has he gone to bat for me? How many times has he covered my ass when my big mouth got me into hot water? How many times has he reined me in when I lost control of my temper?  
  
And isn't it because of him that Allie and I are still together?   
  
How ironic, then, that she should be the one to finally come between us.  
  
When Duke asked me if after all we have been through if I was going to allow choose a woman over my friendship with him, I couldn't help but ask if he was going to choose a job over his friendship with me.  
  
Both of us left the question unanswered.  
  
Maybe I expect too much of him. Maybe I ask too much of him...there is a fine line between friendship and leadership. I would never expect Hawk to hold Lady Jaye back if I told him I felt an order was too dangerous for her. He would probably have me up on charges faster than you can spell 'fraternization'.  
  
Yet this rationale doesn't stop me from expecting precisely this kind of loyalty from him, and I know in my soul that if it comes down to it I will do what I have to do to protect Alison...even if it means destroying any last thread of amity between us.   
  
What a hypocrite I am!  
  
I can feel my anger building even now just thinking about this whole damn mess. I can feel it seething inside me, teasing me, memories creeping about the edge of my mind...causing me to remember that I had been faced with a similar choice once before, and not for the first time do I find myself asking whether or not I made the right decision.  
  
Did that choice lead directly to that fateful night so many years ago where my heart was ripped out and my soul scared forever? Or did that choice reflect what my head knew all along even though my heart refused to see it...that the tide had turned long before I myself came to the crossroads.  
  
The dull pain that these particular memories trigger is pounding deep in my gut. It is less powerful than it used to be, but it is still present...and every so often it breaks the barrier that I have built to hold it in.   
  
Damn it!!! Will I ever find peace!  
  
"Not until you let go, Dash..." Karen once told me so many years ago, "You need to let go. If you keep it all inside it will end up growing like a cancer. What the hell are you afraid of?"  
  
You don't want to know... 


	15. October 3rd

October 3rd,  
  
Damn her....DAMN HER!  
  
So THIS is the way she wants to play the game, so be it. If she thinks for one minute I am going to go crawling back to beg her forgiveness after she unceremoniously threw me out of her hotel room she has got another thing coming.  
  
No way is she going to guilt me into dropping this. She has some nerve...I am NOT the selfish one! I am NOT the one at fault here!  
  
Bloody hell...she makes me so mad sometimes. Did she honestly think I wouldn't find out about it? Did she honestly think I would just let Hawk's revelation at dinner fall by the wayside?  
  
FUCK THAT!  
  
We had just completed a very dangerous yet successful mission, eliminating a small group of terrorists who had hijacked a Russian jetliner. Beachhead, Jaye and I managed to sneak on board the plane through the landing gear and torch our way into the cabin unnoticed by the amateurs on board.  
  
Yes, amateurs.  
  
They were complete dunderheads...the lot of them. Beachhead and I both commented on the fact before we left Hawk and Stalker to intercept the jetliner. Not of the caliber we had grown used to fighting. COBRA agents, for all their foibles, are very professional and well trained. This group, from what I had gathered from the research Jaye had done quickly upon her arrival in San Francisco, were mere babes when it came to terrorist activity.  
  
"They may be amateurs, but they are just as deadly. Fear and nerves will make them unpredictable. I suggest you watch your back." Stalker grunted as he got lifted some equipment into the AWE striker.  
  
"He's right, " Hawk nodded his acknowledgement, "Don't let that arrogance get the better of you. Watch yourself...there are over 200 innocents on board that flight. I don't want any mistakes."  
  
Lady Jaye smirked at the word 'arrogance', knowing full well the comment was directed at me and not Wayne. The latter merely nodded, as if he knew it all along.  
  
'Beach' is one of the people I admire most on the Joe team. He is an incredible soldier...patient and deadly. He doesn't take guff from anyone and expects nothing but the best from his fellow soldiers. Anything less is treated by him with the utmost contempt. He and I work very well together...so much so that Beachhead once commented that he was surprised we weren't teamed more often.  
  
I, of course, smiled and joked "Probably because they need us to keep the others in line and alive."  
  
Beachhead laughed.  
  
"You do have an ego the size of Texas, don't you?"  
  
"...but you know I am right."  
  
"Yup...its too bad you lack patience or you might very well outdo even me...although I highly doubt it."  
  
"Who has the ego now, Sneeden?"  
  
"I just know my strengths..."  
  
"...and my weaknesses?"  
  
"Bingo!"  
  
Speaking of weaknesses...my biggest one did a bang up job on the mission, that I will concede. Jaye was superb as usual, playing the role of Russian stewardess so well that I might not have recognized her had she passed me by on the street.   
  
We pulled off the mission without a hitch, and in celebration I decided to treat everyone to dinner in San Francisco when we landed. LJ immediately piped up about restaurants in the area, glaring at me through the hole in the restroom door in irritation. She had managed to get herself locked in there for the entire flight back, much to my amusement and her chagrin!  
  
I vetoed her immediately, knowing full well what her choice of fare was going to end up costing me. For someone who is such a disaster in the kitchen...who could (and has) ruined scrambled eggs and toast...she has a remarkable palate. As Marvin is quick to point out, the woman KNOWS food. I wouldn't be surprised she wasn't a restaurant critic in a previously life. She is a stickler for service too...and a good wine list. Allie can go through an eighteen-page tome of various vintages and pick the perfect one to compliment a meal.   
  
The thing is, as a result of this culinary snobbery the restaurants she picks are usually very expensive. She might not bat an eye at the prices on the menu, but it's enough to give an enlisted man a coronary.  
  
Not to mention the fact that the food she usually orders is a bit too...exotic...for my taste.   
  
"What is it?"   
  
"Fois Gras"  
  
"No. I mean...WHAT is it?"  
  
"Diseased fatty goose liver. It's a delicacy. Aren't you at least going to try it?"   
  
Ugh.  
  
Give me a steak any day! As far as I am concerned if it isn't cooked or recognizable...it isn't going down.  
  
Anyhow...we ended up at a steakhouse near the pier, all of us were having a good time laughing and joking around. The camaraderie was short lived, however, as Hawk soon chose to ask Jaye how her flight requals went.   
  
It was all downhill from there.  
  
I can still see her glaring at me from across the hotel room, mocking me with a quote from the very play whose words initially brought us together.  
  
"O, beware, my lord, of jealousy! It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock the meat it feeds on." She sneered.  
  
"Jealous? Of HIM? Ha! He has nothing on me...jealousy has nothing to do with it..."  
  
"What is it then, Flint? Trust? Because if it is then we have a bigger problem than merely your juvenile..."  
  
"JUVENILE!" I strode forward and grabbed her wrist "You should talk, throwing yourself at him every chance you get..."  
  
"Get out!"  
  
"No!"  
  
"GET OUT!!!!" She screeched and before I knew it I had been shoved into the hall forcefully and had the door slammed in my face.  
  
I am currently sitting in the hotel bar nursing a beer, scribbling furiously in this bloody journal. I just came back from a quick march along the streets of San Francisco trying to get hold of myself...trying to reign in my rage...  
  
It didn't work.  
  
That cocky flyboy is just lucky he wasn't included on this mission or he would be in traction by now. He might be a hotshot in the pilot seat but on the ground he is in my domain.  
  
I KNEW it wasn't over between them...I just knew it...  
  
You are probably scratching your head, wondering what the hell I am ranting about. It's that Tom Cruise wanna-be Ace, sniffing around where he doesn't belong. Oh yeah, it seems that he and Alison had a thing going for a while before I joined the team. She says it was over long before I ever came onto the scene, but I see the way he looks at her.  
  
It ain't innocent.  
  
I found out about this little tryst of theirs quite by chance. Well, not EXACTLY by chance, but as neither volunteered the information the news certainly came as a complete surprise.  
  
I still remember sitting in the locker room in a towel and dog tags after a long hot shower, joking with the others when Ace walked in. The morning exercises had been tough and I was looking forward not only to a nice nap but seeing Jaye later on. She had been away for a while on a mission and was due back some time that night.  
  
I had taken a lot of ribbing from the guys those past few days over my relationship with her. Its not as though they didn't know what was going on between the two of us beforehand...I certainly made it very clear to whoever so much as looked at her sideways that she was spoken for...its just that a little scene outside the PITT the other day had everyone talking.  
  
Lady Jaye had decked me. ME! The tough as nails badass Joe warrant officer. She had taken a swing and knocked me flat on my back in front of what amounted to the entire team.  
  
"Hey, Flint...I can see who wears the pants in the relationship!" Wetsuit laughed as he passed by my broken form lying in the dust. Cross Country, in the meantime, looked down from his position in the driver seat of the Rhino and hooted.  
  
"Way to go Jaye...GIRL POWER...Yeee Haaaaw"  
  
I could feel my anger growing as she stood over me, glaring at my prostrate form. Fortunately for her I was still a bit stunned by the whole incident or I would have let her have it. I have never EVER hit a woman before...but honest to god that very moment I was sorely tempted.  
  
I was humiliated, confused and angry...not a good combination. Her words, however, triggered the exact opposite response. Before I knew it we were locked in one heck of a passionate kiss...right in front of all the others...and of course, big wuss that I am, I melted.  
  
I AM NOT GOING TO MELT THIS TIME! No way...I am not going to apologize...I am not going to feel guilty. I know what happened last time she went for her RIO requals. The whole bloody base knows the story I'm sure! I am not going to apologize...I am in control here...I am not going to melt!  
  
Who am I kidding...  
  
Ironically, the right hook...and the events that preceded it...marked the beginning of the end of any form of control I had over this relationship. The beginning of the end of any thought of being able to extricate myself from it simply and painlessly...the beginning of the end of even the thought of extricating myself from it.  
  
Grenada. A place I will remember with both fondness and pain until the end of my days.   
  
Grenada. Where the warning bells first went off and I began to realize that like the skilled covert ops agent that she was, she had stealthily wrapped herself around my heart without my even noticing.  
  
Grenada. Where I became conscious that I loved her.  
  
Stop it...STOP IT RIGHT NOW! No going soft on her. This isn't about Grenada...isn't about us...its about that fool flyboy.  
  
Back to the story at hand...Ace.  
  
The guys had been teasing me for days about 'the knockout kiss'...and I was becoming a bit concerned that they would assume my relationship with her was more serious than what I at that time considered it to be...what I was trying to convince myself that it was!  
  
Regardless, I was certainly unwilling to have anyone question my ability to do my job due to some perceived bias towards her. Nor was I ready to announce my feelings towards the woman in question to the world. In actual fact, at that point I didn't want to admit it to myself.  
  
So of course I joked right back at them...bragging about my prowess as a lover, telling them Jaye never had a chance, playing light on our relationship. Truth be told, as I look back I am ashamed of some of the things I said...locker room posturing is beneath me and moreover belittling to poor Allie...who for sure would be hurt and angry at some of the things I said. I couldn't help myself though...it just came out.  
  
Of course, what I DIDN'T need was for 'Mr Perfect' to point this out to me.  
  
"Don't you know it's not polite to kiss and tell, Faireborn?"  
  
"Lighten up...Zoomie. You're just jealous that you didn't get there first."  
  
"I wouldn't say that." He smirked and turned to retrieve his clothes from his locker.  
  
"What is that supposed to mean?" I growled.  
  
"Hmmm...unlike you, I don't feel a need to broadcast my conquests to the world." He turned back to me and frowned, "especially when it concerns someone as special as the woman of whom you are speaking."  
  
"I hope..." I stood up and clenched my fists "...you are not implying what I THINK you are implying."  
  
Roadblock got up with me, a look of concern growing on his face. He knows me...he knows what I am like.   
  
"Dash, my man...sit down, and Brad...you shut up before this gets ugly."   
  
But Ace just stood there with a cocky, arrogant grin on his face. "You're a smart guy, Flint...you figure it out."  
  
I could feel the anger building inside me...I tried to stop it but as usual it engulfed me before I had a chance. Armbruster must have sensed something, seen my eyes darken, for he took a step back.   
  
"She's mine, Flyboy." My voice was low, threatening.  
  
"Dash...stop this right now." Roadblock put a hand on my shoulder to hold me back from what he knew was coming...the others had fallen silent, watching us intently, "Save your energy for COBRA."  
  
"So now you want her?" He sneered, "She is too good for the likes of you...do her a favor and drop her before you end up hurting her."  
  
"What...so you can have her?"  
  
His eyes flashed amusement...and anger.  
  
"I already have."  
  
With that, I lunged forward, slamming him against the lockers with such force that the sound echoed through the entire floor. Ace is strong, but he is not match for me...especially when I am in the state I was in then.   
  
Not many people are.  
  
"LIAR!" I roared as Roadblock tried to pry me off before I inadvertently killed the little bastard.   
  
"FLINT! STAND DOWN, NOW!" Duke barked as he put himself between us when Marvin finally managed to pry us off each other.  
  
Ace didn't back down, I will give him that. He is a brave little Zoomie...that doesn't make me like him, though. Not in the least.   
  
"Seems I hit a nerve..." He smirked humorlessly, "Christ Flint, you are a piece of work, aren't you? You think she didn't have a history? You think she spent her entire life waiting for a self centered jerk like you to steamroll into her life?"  
  
Duke swung around as Roadblock tightened his grip on me. Damn he is strong.  
  
"Armbruster, I suggest you drop this NOW!"  
  
"No problem, Top..." he smiled as he pulled his shirt on and gathered up his things as I glared down at him. A million thoughts were flying through my head, all colored by the red rage the confrontation had triggered. You better believe he hit a nerve with me...he has NO idea how close he came to serious injury. How close I came to ending up in the brig for assaulting an officer.  
  
As he walked out, I strained against Roadblocks grip and hissed a warning.  
  
"Stay away from her, Ace."  
  
He looked up at me from the doorway and smiled that infuriatingly cocky flyboy grin.  
  
"Don't worry, Faireborn....I'm sure you will manage to screw this up without any help from me."   
  
With that he was gone.  
  
The rest of my afternoon was spent getting talked down by Roadblock and chewed out by Duke. Unpleasant to say the least. They both know me, they know why I reacted the way I did and what I was capable of in that state. They also know how to deal with me in the aftermath. Marvin is a bit kinder about the whole thing...Duke...Duke doesn't hold his punches.  
  
Mind you...if push came to shove I know that both of them would have backed me up regardless of the inappropriateness of my behavior or their feelings of camaraderie towards Ace.  
  
It was a good thing that Alison wasn't around when it happened or for sure there would have been an incident that might very well have split us for good. As it was, Roadblock's warning to pull myself together and Lady Jaye's late appearance on the scene lessened the blow.   
  
With me...that isn't saying much.  
  
I confronted her that very same evening about her relationship with Brad, and she admitted to having had short fling with him which ended well before I joined the team. She hadn't mentioned it as she didn't think it was important, pointing out that it was really nothing special. She had a good time with him but the rapport faded after a while. That didn't assuage my indignation, and my attitude was rewarded with a scene very similar to the one that just occurred.   
  
DAMN IT!  
  
Come to think of it...I haven't seen her react like that in a long time. Usually she just walks off and leaves me alone to sulk...get it out of my system. I didn't realize it at the time, but her change in tactics conveniently coincided with Marvin letting her in on my little secret. That knowledge softened her retaliation against my little flare ups.  
  
I don't think I will ever forgive him for going behind my back like that. He had no right to tell her about Karen. No right at all! It was a mistake and he knows it...although done with the best of intentions it resulted in the worse of possible consequences.  
  
Maybe that is why she counter attacked tonight? The scene at Sierra Gordo is still fresh in MY mind...I can just imagine what went through hers when I burst accusingly into the room.  
  
Why wouldn't it, you idiot? It's only been a short while since you...since it happened. And of course you had to go and pull something this stupid just as things were beginning to get back on track.  
  
But she was the one who started it...lying to me about where she had been.  
  
She didn't lie to you...she just never mentioned it.  
  
Same thing.  
  
Like hell....  
  
Ok...now I am starting to argue with myself on paper. Not a good sign. Oh...and isn't this just peachy...there's Hawk. Just what I need right now...a lecture from my CO. He is standing at the entrance to the bar scanning the room. Maybe he won't notice me...  
  
Damn it...here he comes.  
This month is off to an impressive start, don't you think? On the other hand...it seems that since I am getting all the shit kicked out off me the first few days of October, the rest of the month might not be so ba...  
  
October...  
  
It's October!  
  
OH SHIT! Allie!!! Her father...Scotland...  
  
Dashiell, you IDIOT!!!! 


	16. October 4th

October 4th,  
  
You would laugh if you saw me now...a laugh of incredulity and amusement.  
  
For here I sit, armed to the teeth on a transport plane bound for some war torn area of Asia, on a mission so secret that the orders are still sealed in an envelope in my front pocket, only to be opened when we reach enemy airspace. Around me the others, hand picked for this mission, rest as they prepare themselves for the inevitable confrontation...waiting on me to lead them.  
  
And yet, behind my badass glare, my mind is lost contemplating neither tactics nor strategy, nor am I wondering who it is that is sitting quietly across from me clad in a dark suit and tie...although I have some idea and am not at all happy about it.   
  
No.  
  
I am reflecting on the ever changing, fleeting world of 'love'.  
  
I can just see your wide-eyed disbelief as you read that last word. Odd, isn't it? In truth not really...for remember that underneath this uniform lies a scholar of English literature...and if there is something all great works have in common, be it prose or poetry, it is that they inevitably reference this, the most basic and strongest of human emotions.   
  
It's all there in the pages, words waiting to be unlocked by the reader...the passion and tremulous uncertainty of first love, the solemn and rapturous celebration of love fulfilled, the wistful meditations on love unrequited or changed, and the heartrending farewells and melancholy sadness of love lost forever.  
  
What is it about this one great human passion that has us all so mesmerized? And what exactly is 'true' love...affection in its purest form?  
  
Strange question, that last one. Not an easy one to answer. Every teenager thinks his or her first love is true love, but is it really? How much of love is driven by lust and self centered need than by anything pure and noble as penned by great poets like Keats or Byron.  
  
How many of us actually experience true love in our lifetime? I think the number is far fewer than one might expect. Or is it that there are different degrees of love? That there is no one specific definition to the emotional ties that join two people?   
  
Is each love as unique as the individuals who comprise the pair?  
  
These questions came to me as I watched Alison's sleeping form, so small and vulnerable as she lay curled in a ball at the edge of the huge king sized hotel bed.   
  
She had cried herself to sleep. I could tell by the puffiness around her closed eyes and the redness of her nose. I was the cause, of course. My little tirade and angry accusations had hurt her at a time when she is most vulnerable.   
  
And yet she wouldn't break down in front of me...Allie stood her ground and gave as good as she got...despite the pain in her heart...despite the additional hurt I threw at her in my unthinking state.  
  
I feel like such a jerk. I stood over her for a good ten minutes, wondering what to say...wondering if I should wake her up and apologize but in the end I just left her a note. Even after I penned it and left it on the night table I continued to stand there, soaking in her presence...studying her...trying to burn an image of her in my mind...every soft curve, every nuance...  
  
God, she is beautiful.  
  
It's strange, what I feel when I am with her. A mixture of calm contentment and utter confusion, of deep passion and heart stopping fear all at once. It confuses me...so much so that lately I am at my wits end as to what to do about it.  
  
I have loved before, you know. But it was different. I was younger...but it was love. Or was it? Before I met Alison I could say with the utmost certainty that I had been in love with the woman in question, but it was so very different than what I feel now that I sometimes wonder if I was somehow mistaken...that I had confused it with some other emotion, some other passion.  
  
But no...it was love. In another form, I would guess. An immature love. One born of need and want, of lust and fire...an all-consuming flash that burned hot for a short time and then was snuffed just as quickly.  
  
Snuffed by her...Dashiell. You still loved her.  
  
Did she ever love you back?  
  
Even now, after so many years, the pain still aches deep within me. It is not of loss anymore...I don't wish to have her back. I no longer pine for her at night, think of her during the day. It is the pain of anger and soul wrenching betrayal. It is the ache of knowing something has been taken from you by force and you will never get it back...  
  
...your ability to trust, to love...and to allow yourself to be loved in return. The willingness to make yourself vulnerable.  
  
And isn't that what love does, for all intents and purposes...makes you vulnerable?  
  
I never thought I would be able to feel so deeply for another person again. I never thought in a million years that I would be willing and able to remain in a relationship with someone for so long.  
  
I never thought I would be able to love again.  
  
And yet, here I am, not only doing that very same thing but experiencing things...thoughts, feelings, emotions...that despite my experience I have never felt before.  
  
It hit me like a ton of bricks while we were vacationing together in Grenada...a place that I have mentioned at several points in this journal, so I think at this point you might very well have some idea what that time meant to me.  
  
It almost didn't happen, you know. When Scarlett initially approached me about her plans I immediately referenced rule number five of the my dating commandments, 'though shall not go on long, romantic vacations together'.  
  
In response I got a slap upside the head. Red is worse than Jaye when it comes to that.  
  
Regardless, she convinced me that what I was doing was not 'wooing' Jaye, but helping a friend get his mind off his buddies who were being held prisoner in Borovia and forget the hard fact that he was under strict orders NOT to try a rescue.  
  
They should have known Snake Eyes was not going to listen.  
  
I should have known.   
  
I did know, in a way.  
  
Before the vacation was even a spark in the back of Scarlett's sneaky little mind I approached Snakes and offered my help. Difficult, suicidal rescue missions are my specialty, as he well knew...but he turned me down flat. Irritating to say the least. I didn't let up, though. I guess I was a bad influence, Hawk certainly thought so when he found out what I was up too...but that didn't stop me.  
  
I knew my quiet buddy...I knew what was going through his head. I knew he was planning something and I sure as hell wanted to be a part of it.  
  
I stand by my friends.   
  
Which is one of the reasons why I was so hurt and angry when I found out what they pulled. When I found out they left me behind.   
  
In any case, back to the vacation.  
  
Despite the tension simmering inside of Snakes Eye's heart, we all managed to have a lovely time. Days filled with sun, sand and surf...nights spent dancing, drinking...strolling under the stars.  
  
Alison and I didn't fight once, which was highly unusual given the volatile nature of a relationship. Ok...she did damn near drown me at one point, but that was in retaliation for what we like to refer to as the 'Octopus Incident'. A childish prank on my part, but well worth the inevitable retaliation that came soon after.  
  
It was also my first long term glance at 'Alison' the woman...completely separated from 'Lady Jaye' the soldier.   
  
It was our first time out together as civilians, and I have to tell you her grace and femininity stirred something in me the moment I saw her standing on the beach in her bikini, the moment I saw her in walking along the beach in the moonlight. The easy smile, the gorgeous laugh, the sparkle in her eye...  
  
I was mesmerized.  
  
But the thing that sent me over the edge, sent me spiraling out of control was not her beauty...it was that she let me in. For two fleeting, wonderful moments...she dropped her guard and let me in.  
  
The first occurred one evening after dinner. I had dragged her up to a spot on a cliff overlooking the ocean that I had found earlier in the day, and we were sitting quietly under a tree discussing this and that. I was more relaxed than I had been in years and I could tell by the feel of her in my arms that she was as well.  
  
It was then that I first heard it...her voice low and melodic, spinning tales told to her by her father and her father's father. Alison's love of the spoken word is rivaled only by my love of the written. She comes from a family of accomplished storytellers and is herself a gifted actress.   
  
Each word was chosen careful, spoken with feeling... woven with the others into a carefully orchestrated tapestry, drawing the listener in so completely that for an instant the real world disappears under its influence.  
  
However much I was taken by the story itself, it was she who had my full attention. I knew what an honor it was to be graced by what amounted to a private performance. In her own way, she was giving me a part of herself...the part that was tied so closely to her family, to her traditions and stories...to her father.   
  
I was touched in a way I can hardly describe...and when she finished and looked at me, her eyes downcast as if ashamed or embarrassed by what she had shared, as if fearing my reaction...I felt something spark deep inside my gut, and before I could stop myself I kissed her.  
  
I know...I have kissed her before. Many times...but this was special. I could tell from the instant our lips connected, but before I could explore it Snakes and Red appeared and the moment was lost.  
  
I probably would have pushed the whole thing to the back of my mind, never to be revisited...safely locked away so as not to bother me with thoughts I was not prepared to entertain. Unfortunately...or fortunately...fate had an altogether different plan for me, bringing the entire issue back to the surface not in a slow and gentle trickle...but in a flood.  
  
The event that triggered this inundation was, of course, the infamous 'ninja stepping on a land mind' fiasco.  
  
Even knowing what I know now...even knowing that they are both alive and well, that it was all an elaborate plan to 'disappear' and free themselves to rescue Stalker and the others despite orders, when I think back on that afternoon the pain still shoots through me as if I was still standing right there in the field...watching the scene in shock and horror as the explosion shook the ground.  
  
You know what hits me the hardest?   
  
The guilt. The terrible, terrible guilt.   
  
I should have remembered they were headed into an old minefield! I had seen it on the news just recently, the evening before in fact. I should have noticed the sign sooner...it was lying on the ground just a few feet in front of me...but by the time I got my act together it was too late.   
  
They were gone...  
  
I managed to pull myself together quickly enough...in the split second after the explosion I went into *Flint* mode, taking charge of the situation with a cold professionalism that even Duke would have admired.  
  
I had to...Alison was too far-gone to do anything. I barely managed to keep her from running into that minefield after them and getting herself killed!   
  
She wasn't hysterical...far from it.   
  
Jaye doesn't do hysteria.   
  
What she did do is go very, very quiet. It was as if she were folding inwards, retreating into some deep sanctuary where nothing could touch her. I watched as it happened, watched as she stood beside me staring off into space, her arms crossed and her face expressionless. It was the first time I had seen her like that and it worried me...scared me a bit.   
  
I kept a close eye on her for the entire evening, every so often looking over my shoulder to check on her as I wrapped things up with the local authorities and contacted headquarters. I kept myself busy...very busy...taking care of both business and Jaye. It was the only thing that was keeping me standing.  
  
Snakes and I are close. We might not have known each other long, but I trust him with both my life and my confidences. I admire him...his skill, his strength of character, his loyalty. I know that he will watch my back no matter what is thrown at him...and I had failed to watch his.  
  
And Red...poor Shana.   
  
She and I are not as close as we could be. I sometimes think that she doesn't like me very much...only tolerates me because of my relationship with Alison and my friendship with Snakes, but regardless I know she would go to bat for me...has gone to bat for me.  
  
I had failed her too. And in failing her I failed Snakes yet again. His love for her is so strong that I know he would give his life for her without even batting an eye. I know he would have expected me to at least pull her out.  
  
I know he would...because that night I finally understood what drove him.   
  
When we finally returned to the hotel room, exhausted and emotionally drained, we stood in silence for what seemed to me an eternity...Alison sitting on the bed staring at the floor...not wanting to look at me.  
  
Did she blame me? Did she feel the same way I did...that it was my fault? The thought tore through me like a knife through my heart, and before I knew it I called her name in a voice filled with pain, guilt, desperation...and need.  
  
...and with that simple cry I managed to break down the barrier that she had put up around herself. At the sound of my voice she looked up, tears in her eyes, and reached for me.  
  
What ensued was an experience that very, very few people are graced with in their lifetime. Making love hardly describes it. It is the type of intimacy that only happens when you let yourself go, when you open yourself up to another human being...when you both let your guard down and make yourself truly vulnerable.  
  
Not since Karen has sex seemed important, or significant in any deeper way. Where every touch, every caress, every kiss expresses emotions that can never be properly expressed with words alone.  
  
I had pretty much given up on that type of intimacy...not the pleasure of sex, but the sheer power of true joining. Now, here it was again...but one hundred times more powerful than anything I had ever experienced...  
  
That night, the intensity of my emotions made the hair stand up on my skin, made the blood pound in my head. I half expect to see flames ignite where my hand touched her skin.   
  
That night all those words so skillfully written down by Lawrence, Keats, Byron...by Austin, Bronte, and Shakespeare...by every author who wrote about love...were made crystal clear.  
  
Do you understand now? Do you know now why I was so terrified? Do you understand now why I ran?  
  
I should point out I was not the only one who bolted. Alison was a bit shaken up by the experience as well, so much so that the next morning she was having trouble putting two words together in front of me. You can imagine how flustered she had to be for that to happen, given her mastery of language.  
  
Both of us were too embarrassed to even look each other in the eye.  
  
As it was it took almost a month before we so much as touched each other again, that touch being Alison's fist connecting with my jaw during that little episode I mentioned previously.  
  
I couldn't help myself! I opened my mouth and before I knew it I was yelling at Snakes and Red!  
  
Yes, I was relieved to have them back, alive and well...but at the same time I was humiliated at being played for a fool...I was hurt that they didn't trust me enough to include me on the mission...I was angry at the terrible guilt and pain they had inflicted on me...and more than that, I was frustrated and confused over the whole mess with Alison.  
  
I just didn't know how to deal with it anymore. It was supposed to be light...it was supposed to be temporary. What happened in Grenada does not happen in light or temporary relationships!  
  
However, as afraid as I was to recognize the relationship for what it had become, I was more afraid that if I didn't act soon, I was going to lose her. So what did I do? As we drove out in to meet the plane carrying Snakes, Red, Stalker, Snow Job and Quick Kick back to civilization, I tried to tell her how I felt.   
  
You know, there is a reason I am always using quotes to express myself. Rhodes Scholar I might be, but the minute I have to say something deep or poignant WITHOUT one I become a blathering idiot!  
  
All I could think of to do was babble something completely nonsensical on the merits of caring...how people can tell that you care without your having to say a word.   
  
Jaye merely watched me with an odd look on her face. Roadblock, who had been standing quietly in the back of the tank watching the scene unfold, chuckled softly and shook his head in amusement.  
  
"I suppose you think this is all very funny, Marvin..." I hissed as we got of the tank and followed Jaye to the runway.  
  
"I think it's hilarious!" he laughed as he watched me stomp off in indignation.  
  
I don't think Alison quite understood what I was telling her, at least not until she started reaming into me as I lay on the ground clutching my bruised jaw...when she stopped mid sentence and just stared at me amazement.  
  
So there...I admitted to her that I cared...that she was more to me than a mere fling.  
  
Not much, but I don't think either of us was ready for anything more at that point.  
  
I know I wasn't.  
  
I think I would have been more comfortable going back to the light, 'no commitment' phase except that some long buried part of me had emerged that night, and for all my bluster I knew that our relationship had changed forever.  
  
Against all odds the woman had awoken something in me that I thought had died long ago, and for the life of me I didn't know how to kill it again.  
  
Love.   
  
Who would have known?  
  
Anyhow, back to the present. I had better get my shit together and prepare for the chaos that these top-secret missions usually entail.  
  
Alison should be on her way to Scotland right now if all went according to plan. I had gone and purchased tickets for her at the airport as soon as I realized the date. She is usually in the Highlands this time of year visiting her father's grave, and I am sure that dropping it all to follow Hawk to San Francisco had killed her.  
  
It cost me a small fortune...last minute first class tickets...the only seat available...but it was worth every penny. It was the least I could do, given the pain I had caused her.   
  
Hopefully she will forgive me.  
  
I wish I could be there for her. She never asks me to come along on these little trips, and I respect her need for privacy. Nevertheless, I feel as though I should stand by her side...provide a hand to hold, a shoulder to cry on.  
  
Why then did I feel relief that I couldn't?   
  
Karen...you bitch...look what you have done to me!  
  
At that thought, Hawk's words to me as I sat up from the table to go gather up my things for the mission have begun to echo through my mind.  
  
"You know..." he said, his arm on my shoulder, stopping me "...my dad said something to me once when I was younger...something that stuck in my head to this day. He said..'Clay...you may be deceived if you trust too much, but you will live in torment if you don't trust enough.' "  
  
"Sir?" I looked at him blankly, not willing to show him that I understood what he was trying to say.   
  
He sighed and shook his head  
  
"Think about it, Faireborn...just think about it..."  
  
Hawk is right of course.  
  
That is what love is all about, isn't it...trust. Without it any relationship you have is nothing...  
  
...and that is what Karen took from me...  
  
I will never forgive her. 


	17. October 9th

October 9th,  
  
I am hot, I am wet, I am surrounded by flies...and at the moment I probably smell worse than Beachhead.  
  
In fact, the only thing that likely smells worse than I do is this damn mission!  
  
Our plane flew into the area early yesterday...a black c-47 Dakota modified for stealth...not only against radar but also against sound. A good thing too, for as Wild Bill pointed out, we were flying low enough to be taken out by a handgun.  
  
I was informed of our mission as we neared Cambodian airspace. It seems that we have been sent to extract one 'Theron Portland', a traitor and a spy according to the powers that be. Apparently he was working on a top-secret electronic surveillance site in Thailand when he skipped over the border with some computer chips.  
  
If we can't get him out...we are to 'eliminate' him.  
  
Duke has selected a kick ass team, as is to be expected. Beachhead, Leatherneck, Tunnel Rat, Wet Suit, Footloose and Lowlight...great soldiers...some of the best Joe has to offer. He was on the plane when Beach and I boarded in San Francisco, and although he didn't accompany us on the jump, I knew he was as deep into this as I...maybe even worse!   
  
Poor suck had to work with the CIA agent who dreamed up this little sortie.  
  
Yeah...you heard me...CIA.   
  
I knew what he was as soon as I saw him...those guys stick out like a sore thumb. I also knew immediately why I had been chosen to lead this one.  
  
This whole thing stunk to hell of Black Ops.  
  
Not one to keep my thoughts to myself, I told Duke of my suspicions the minute I got wind of our orders.  
  
"I don't like this, Conrad...there is something we are missing here..." I whispered as we stood at the back of the plane going over the plans. "That spook Anderson is keeping something from us."  
  
"I know." He answered, returning his attention to the map we had laid out on a makeshift table.  
  
"I mean, if this guy is so important to the Russians, why not fly him to Moscow...why send him north in such a small convoy? The risks of ambush on the ground are much greater than an air interdiction in Soviet airspace. The pieces just don't add up"  
  
"I know"  
  
"You know! You know!" I narrowed my eyes in frustration, "Then why the hell don't we just quit playing games and get the real story out of him right now. I am not about to risk my men on a..."  
  
"You know that isn't going to happen..."   
  
"I don't like being dicked around by 'suits'" I growled and he swung around to face me.  
  
"Enough, Flint...Orders are orders. We have a job to do and we do it...no questions asked..."  
  
"That sounds suspiciously like something 'the Black' would say..." I snapped, glaring back at him. Then it dawned on me. It seems that the government had found a way to make use of the Joe team above and beyond our present 'anti-terrorist', 'anti-cobra' capacity.  
  
No wonder we had been saddled with so many 'special missions' of late. We are doing CIA operations not recognized by the government...Black Ops...  
  
I AM BACK DOING BLACK OPS!  
  
"...Now you're catching on." He smiled a small, humorless smile as he saw the expression on my face.  
  
"So I take it you are leading this little initiative?" I tried to keep my voice level.  
  
He nodded. "Hawks orders...and before you go and get yourself court marshaled for screaming at a General, he is also following orders from higher up...and 'I' was the one who asked for you."  
  
"You know how I feel about..."  
  
"...yes, yes...but I also know you are going to keep an eye out for trouble. I know you aren't going to let us get screwed and I know you are going to get all these men back in one piece."  
  
I didn't answer him. He knew that I would do what I was told. I always follow orders, no matter how insane, no matter how bad...I follow orders and I give it my all.  
  
He smiled at me, as if he knew exactly what I was thinking.  
  
"...Stop glowering, Dash. You know you love this shit. You live for this kind of action. Would you rather be pushing paper back at HQ?"  
  
At that I snorted at him, not willing to give him the satisfaction of knowing he had won the argument, and turned to check on the men.  
  
He is right, of course. I do love it. There are parts of it I could do without for certain, but for the most part it is this kind of challenge that keeps me in the forces. I live for adventure!  
  
But that doesn't mean I have to be nice about it.  
  
In fact, just before we reached the drop zone I snapped at Anderson. He was busy telling us that the mission was going to be a piece of cake...to which I shot back that if it was such light stuff why wasn't he coming with us. He of course replied that he was not a field op.  
  
"Then don't be telling us how EASY our job's going to be"  
  
Damn, I hate CIA.  
  
In any case, I am now camped for the night in the middle of the jungle, deep in enemy territory...no fire, cold rations only, and noise discipline.  
  
We did a low altitude drop into the area earlier in the day, and have spent the last eight hours trudging through dense foliage. Jungle terrain provides excellent concealment and great cover, but the trade off is that it makes movement slow and noisy while reducing visibility drastically.   
  
It is the perfect place for an ambush.  
  
I had the men spread out and form a security circle immediately after our feet touched the ground, tightening up the formation once we hit the tree line. I gave Beachhead the point and Leatherneck took the drag position, placing myself in the middle where I could keep track of everything and everyone.  
  
It was slow going, but we managed to make good time despite the thick vegetation that impeded our every move. We were very, very far from civilization...the only village we came upon wasn't even on the map Anderson gave us. When we spotted the huts I immediately ordered the men to approach it from behind, not trusting the intel that the CIA agent had given us. In the end it turned out to be a false alarm. The village was uninhabited...its people the victims of one of Pol Pots re-education initiatives if the skulls half buried behind one of the huts was any indication.  
  
At least that explained why it wasn't on the map.  
  
Right now we are camped about two hours south of our planned ambush site. There is no use continuing on until dawn...the lack of light combined with the terrain make the risk of injury too great.  
  
Not to mention the men need to rest and recover their strength.   
  
From the grumbling I hear among them, I know that they are about as suspicious about this whole deal as I am. Even Lowlight, who is usually so quiet came up and told me, point blank, that he thought Anderson was setting us up for a fall.  
  
I didn't disagree with him, but I couldn't have my soldiers balking this late in the game.   
  
"That's all probably true...but we're the guys who signed up to do the dirty work, so lets get on with it. We have our orders..." I barked and that was the end of the discussion.  
  
Duke has taught me well.  
  
So here I sit, trying to write a bit in this journal by the soft red glow of the setting sun. Soon there won't be enough light to see my hand in front of my face. I am itchy and uncomfortable, but at least I am off my feet for a while.  
  
One thing about the jungle, as beautiful as it is, as awe inspiring from afar...it is a hot, sticky, wet, insect infested nightmare for a soldier. It didn't help that we all had to be decked out in full combat cammies and any sort of insect repellant, soap or deodorant was strictly off limits. Its no use being sneaky if the enemy can smell you coming.  
  
At least the garlic pills are keeping the annoyance to a minimum.  
  
I wonder if my brother Tom was in a similar situation when he was fighting in neighboring Vietnam. I wonder if he hiked through the hot sun, through leech-infested bogs and animal trails riddled with booby traps on orders he knew were an exercise in futility? What did he think about at night when his unit finally made camp? Did he worry about the fight ahead? Did he complain about the disgusting taste of the rations? Did he worry about his men? Was he afraid? Angry? Frustrated? Or did he revel in the action and danger?  
  
Did he know he was going to die there?  
  
If he had known, would he have cared? Would he have done his duty no matter what the odds stacked against him?  
  
They tell me he died a hero...went down getting his men to safety after they were surprised by the enemy outside of Danang. Do you think my father would be proud of me if I died a hero like Tom?   
  
Well, Tom...wherever you are I hope you are watching over your little brother who looks and acts so much like you. Making dad proud or not, I would sure as hell like to make it out of here alive with all my men accounted for.   
  
I had better eat some of my freeze-dried rations and get some sleep. I have to be on top of things tomorrow. I have a very bad feeling about this...and I have learned over time to trust my gut. If it were up to me I would call this off right now and send my men to back to the US base in Thailand and safety.  
  
Lowlight is right to ask why the CIA didn't keep this op inside their own shop. They only use grunts like us for the no win, suicide missions that they want to keep under the table.  
  
Yeah...if it were up to me I would be out of here. I am not a coward...but I don't like being used.  
  
Only thing is...I have no choice 


	18. October 15th

October 15th,  
  
I don't think I have ever been happier to see my tiny little room down in the residence level of the PITT! I don't think my bed has ever felt more comfortable.  
  
What a week. What a disaster!  
  
I knew something wasn't right about the whole deal! Leave it to a spook to throw you to the lions without so much as batting an eye.   
  
We broke camp early in the morning, just as the sun began to appear over the horizon. I gave the men five minutes to gather their things and police up the litter, fluffing the grass back up where they were laying so very little evidence of our presence was left behind. I doubt the enemy was even aware of our existence at that point, but you cannot leave anything to chance.  
  
We reached the designated site with very little trouble and I deployed everyone to their ambush positions as soon as the road came into view.   
  
Although Anderson spelled out most of the orders for me, once on the ground I took charge of tactics...the plan of action entirely in my hands. Not to brag or anything...ok I am bragging...but I am a whiz at military strategy and tactical planning. It is most probably a result of my intellectual gifts, the ones that served me so well throughout my short lived academic career.   
  
Most of the Joe missions are now drawn out by yours truly after Hawk discovered my little talent, and I am included in all the briefings and ops meetings. It's a huge responsibility, not something to be taken lightly. The lives of the soldiers carrying out your plan hang in the balance...not to mention in some cases the fate of the free world! It is imperative that you study the situation from every angle, analyze ever nuance, and prepare for every possible eventuality.   
  
Nothing should be left to chance.  
  
I think one of the reasons I am so good at it is that unlike most military strategists, I am out in the field as well. I understand things about which your average pencil pusher can only theorize. The effects of weather and terrain, the physical and mental limitations of the soldiers, the cold heartedness of the enemy, the chaos of an attack or confrontation, the many variables that cannot possibly be considered by someone who has spent his days behind a desk at the Pentagon.  
  
Its one thing to give orders in a vacuum, its quite another to get your hands dirty and carry it out yourself. Either way, you have to live with your choices. You have to look at yourself in the mirror everyday and know that you did your very best despite any loss of life...that whatever disaster that occurred could not possibly have been foreseen, much less prevented.  
Despite the burden, I find there is nothing more satisfying than seeing a mission you drew up implemented successfully from start to finish.  
  
To quote a popular TV show..."I love it when a plan come together..."  
  
In any case, back to the mission.  
  
I placed Tunnel Rat on a hill with the automatic weapon for grazing fire down the road, while the two fire teams...alpha (Wetsuit and myself) and beta (Lowlight and Beachhead)...were positioned in the bush close to the actual ambush site...dropping mines on the opposite side of the road for good measure. Leatherneck and Footloose were placed further back to cover our route to the extraction site.  
  
After checking each soldiers field of fire closely to ensure we didn't have any accidents, I buckled down to wait.  
  
I might not be the most patient of people, but when on the job I can force myself to sit for hours, quiet and unmoving, while I wait for the signal to attack. I don't find it easy, I don't think anyone does. Lowlight and Beachhead are probably better at it than most...the former being a sniper and trained rigorously for this type of work while the latter is just deadly patient by nature...but as the hours ticked by, the sun beating down on us while bugs crawled in and out of our clothing and buzzed around our heads...even they became a bit antsy.  
  
At least we had some entertainment, a local kid playing at being the 'warrior prince'...his 'golden chariot' a tired looking, flea bitten water buffalo. Footloose was amused by his antics, as were the others I'm sure. I merely smiled and nodded, but kept my gun aimed right at him.  
  
As brutal and heartless as it may seem, you can never let your guard down...not even for what seems to be a defenseless child. I would have mowed him down if the situation warranted it...it wouldn't be the first time I found myself in that type of circumstance. I slit a kids throat once...he couldn't have been much older than thirteen. He was armed and guarding one of our targets.  
  
Duke sent me to take him out quietly.  
  
I knew it had to be done; I knew it was crucial to the success of the mission. God knows I have seen what these little guys can do when they point a gun and begin to shoot, when a soldier's heart got in the way of common sense.  
  
Doesn't stop it from haunting you for the rest of your days. They're just kids after all...they are supposed to be out riding their bikes and eating ice cream...not hauling around an AK47 and some grenades!  
  
But I digress...I needn't have worried about this little boy...he was the least of our worries.  
  
You know...as much planning as you do...as many considerations as you try to take into account...your mission is only as good as the intel upon which it is based.   
  
In this case, ours fell far short.  
  
As our target came into view...the 'small' convoy turned out to be a well-armed, well-equipped full armored column with enough firepower to chew us up and spit us out. The soldiers with them were alert and professional.   
  
There was no way I was going to open fire on them...it would have been suicide!  
  
Unfortunately...Anderson had other plans for us.   
  
The minute we got on the radio to key in the squelch signal and tell him we made contact, the machine began to screech like an air raid siren. I killed it with my rifle, but of course it was too late.   
  
Our enemy knew we were there.  
  
I reacted quickly, ordering every weapon to open fire...bringing everything to bear in order to gain immediate fire superiority. I didn't even want to wait for a clear visual target...firing at smoke, muzzle flashes and sound...using grenades and claymores as well.  
  
I knew, however, that we wouldn't last long. As I said...these guys were good...so I ordered us to disengage and head for the LZ...leaving Leatherneck and Footloose to cover our retreat.  
  
We managed to lose them in the jungle and reach the clearing unscathed but exhausted. We were also missing a man. Lowlight had stayed behind to ensure that our target...Mr. Portland...did not make it out of this jungle alive. The others wanted to wait up but I knew we couldn't afford to turn back and get him. Ordering the men to stay sharp I called in an extraction on the remaining radio and popped a red smoker for visual.  
  
The chopper came into view almost immediately and I waited until all my men were on board before jumping on myself. We had to be fast, the enemy was hot on our tail. Lift Ticket had kept the power up in the bird so that we could make a hasty exit. Thank goodness Lowlight made it back, running his ass off with a platoon of Soviets close behind.  
  
He jumped on with very little time to spare.  
  
I hate leaving a man behind. I know that sometimes it cannot be helped...but I still hate it. I was half ready to jump off the chopper myself to go and get him.  
  
As for Anderson...well...the minute I spotted his smug little face on the Tomahawk I went in for the kill, slamming him up against the side of the chopper in my anger.  
  
"You have some explaining to do, you bastard."  
  
"Easy Flint..." Wild Bill came up and put a calming hand on my shoulder. "We already worked him over. I figured something was up once we realized what he was transmitting to your radios after the squelch signal...he set up this ambush to fail from the get go."  
  
"Really..." I growled, tightening my grip on the CIA agent, who was beginning to sweat under his shirt.   
  
"Portland had been set up by the CIA." Wild Bill continued, "It seems he was MEANT to defect. They were counting on him to take the chip with him. It contained an undetectable computer virus that would disable every computer it was installed in. The ambush was to give him credibility..."  
  
"...As the KGB might suspect he was a double agent if no effort was made to stop him." I finished for him, my voice low and deadly, "...a brilliant scheme, I admit...certainly worthy of you underhanded pricks at central intel. Too bad you chose the WRONG soldier to piss off..."   
  
"Let him go, Flint..." Beachhead's voice broke through my anger, "...he ain't worth the trouble."  
  
I paused for a moment, collecting myself, and slammed him against the wall once more for good measure before letting him go.  
  
I will have to take some small satisfaction in knowing that his little plan is a complete wash...Lowlight managed not only to stop Portland without killing him, but recapture the 'stolen' chips as well.   
  
Meanwhile, I am just glad to be 'home'.  
  
I was still wound up when our plane finally touched down in Utah, so much so that immediately upon finding Jaye I dragged her up to a secluded spot outside the PITT for a little Tai Chi. She introduced me to the martial art technique not long ago, and I find it works quite well...helps me clear my mind and quell whatever tension that remains after a hard mission.   
  
Allie didn't ask questions, knowing full well that I am unable to answer due to the security classification tacked onto this mission, but nonetheless I know she understands.   
  
Somehow she always does.  
  
She's on duty at the moment, having left my room a couple of hours ago to report in. I think she has forgiven me for the scene in San Francisco. She even offered to pay me back for the plane tickets...an offer I flat out refused. I might not have a lot of money to throw around, but when I buy something for someone...no matter how expensive...it's a gift from the heart...I don't expect anything in return.  
  
In any case, we spent the rest of the afternoon making love. It had been such a long time since we had last been with each other that it was hard to keep our hands to ourselves! I caught her watching me a couple of times as I went through the movements of our Tai Chi routine...saw the fire in her eyes. I had to smile in amusement when I looked over to find her staring, her eyes widening in embarrassed surprise as she looked quickly away...like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar.  
  
Hey...I'm a good-looking guy, what can I say?  
  
She had a nice time in Scotland from what she told me, although I could tell something was bothering her. She seemed distant, distracted...but when I asked she told me it was nothing.  
  
Yeah right...like you can lie to me, Allie...  
  
"Are you sure nothing is bothering you?"  
  
"Hmmm...yeah, I'm fine...its probably jetlag. And that patrol with Spirit took a lot out of me." She paused as she collected her things, looking off into space.  
  
"It was nice seeing the family again...everyone seems so well." She continued, "Duncan is getting married in a few months and is knee deep in wedding preparations...and Connor...you remember Connor, don't you? Well, he is going to be a father. Can you believe it? His wife is already showing...I bet you when I see her next she will be waddling around a..."  
  
The rest of what she was saying was lost to me...in one ear and out the other as I lay there on the bed, frozen...  
  
"Dash...are you ok? Hello...earth to Dashiell..."  
  
I must have looked a sight right then, my face a mixture of shock and fear. I knew right away, as if some ingrained male instinct alerted me to the danger. I think every guy has it...every guy recognizes the look on his girlfriends face...the faraway tone in her voice. And I am sure every guy has the same thing running through his head when the alarm starts to go off.  
  
"Run away...run away!"  
  
Yup...it had finally happened.   
  
Alison's biological clock was finally kicking in!  
  
The funny thing is she doesn't even know it! She dismissed my odd behavior as some residual effect of the mission...quietly telling me to get some sleep and that she will see me in the morning.   
  
Thank god...what I don't need right now is to piss her off again!  
  
You know, as much as the thought puts me in immediate 'fight or flight' mode, I can't help but smile. I think the two of us would make great parents...I wonder if our first will be a boy...a little me.   
  
Ha...God help us if that is the case!  
  
Holy SHIT...where is this coming from!!!!! Damn that woman and her bloody hormones...they're starting to screw with my head now!  
  
I really do need some sleep... 


	19. October 20th

October 20th,  
  
"He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze to long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also at you."  
  
That's what I am...what I have become...a monster. Worse, a Jekyll and Hyde knock off whose moods are as volatile and frightening as the character created by Robert Louis Stephenson so long ago.  
  
What have I done?   
  
God...what have I done?  
  
One minute, I was in a friendly sparing match with Lady Jaye...practicing our hand to hand under Leatherneck's watchful eye and the next I am being physically restrained by the big Marine, watching as Jaye's expression went from fear and shock to...to concern.  
  
Oh Allie...I could have killed you and all I saw in your eyes was concern. You deserve so much better than an animal like me...  
  
...A wounded animal.  
  
Wounded...how appropriate. That is exactly what I am; a wounded animal...and I have become as unpredictable as one as well. Duke's words triggered something in me, something I keep buried so deep that it rarely sees the light of day, and as it emerged I felt my anger rise so quickly that it overwhelmed all my defenses...breaking through them like a tidal wave through a toothpick.  
  
It couldn't have lasted more than a minute...I don't know for sure, it was all a blur of darkness, a haze of rage and fleeting images from the past...but it might as well have been a lifetime for the damage I could have done had someone not been there to stop me...had her voice not broken through the fog.  
  
As it was, I can still see the expressions of shock and disbelief on the faces of my teammates as I slowly grabbed hold of myself.  
  
It was just too much.   
  
I ran.  
  
So here I am, sitting on the hood of my car on a remote mountain road far from the base, far from anywhere...staring out at the beautiful desert landscape laid out before me... quoting Nietzsche...and feeling thoroughly miserable.   
  
Damn you Duke...you had to say those words...you had to pull the trigger!  
  
No...that's unfair. I should be able to control myself. Regardless of what is said or done, I shouldn't have snapped.   
  
'Man who man would be, must rule the empire of himself'  
  
Ever since I could understand the words I have been taught that a gentleman never EVER raises a hand to a woman. You never, ever use your physical strength to overpower or force yourself on a woman...no matter WHAT the circumstances.  
  
Now I've done it twice...TWICE!  
  
I wasn't always this way...this angry...this...this...out of control. I am a soldier, violence is my business, but you learn to turn it off. You have to or there would be an army of psychopaths in uniform roaming the streets!  
  
No. I mean...I was always a bit moody...dark and brooding at times...but mostly just a big mouthed egoist with something to prove and a taste for fun.  
  
Then I met Karen and everything changed forever...  
  
I suppose I should get this out on paper. Those who knew me back then have some idea as to what happened...but only two people know the whole sordid tale...Conrad and Marvin...and only because they were there.  
  
Karen is...was...my wife.  
  
Yeah...I was married before. This was a long time before I joined Joe...it's been almost ten years since we split...ten years since my heart was torn from my chest and battered against the floor.  
  
Dramatic, eh?  
  
You don't know the half of it.  
  
I met her around the time I was wrapping up basic and started my military career in earnest. I had already caught the eye of several of the top brass and had been stationed in California under one of the toughest...and the best...teams the army had. The field commander was one Sergeant Conrad 'Duke' Hauser, and I was one of the promising new recruits he was sent to work with.  
  
Because Duke's team saw more 'action' than most in those days, when the academics at Berkley started spreading word of a project they were conducting...a study on post-traumatic stress disorder and the effects of combat on the mental health of US soldiers...the powers that be pointed them in our direction.  
  
All of us were ordered to spend a few sessions with the graduate students helping on the project, and of course I joked about it. Even then, I hated sitting with the shrinks...found it a waste of time. In fact, had I not been ordered to I probably would have skipped the whole thing.  
  
I wonder sometimes what my life would be like today if I had done just that.  
  
In any case, I walked into the makeshift office and there, sitting before me...was the woman of my dreams...a beautiful blonde haired, blue-eyed California girl with a shy smile and a quick wit. She was intelligent, soft spoken, and had a great sense of humor. From the moment I saw her I was smitten.  
  
Although she tried to get the meeting on track I could tell I was too much for her. Mind you, she seemed amused by my antics and playful banter during the session. So much so that she accepted my invitation to dinner that very evening.  
  
What ensued was a whirlwind romance. I was completely taken by her...she became my world. It was the first time I had been that crazy about a girl in my life! I spent all my extra time with Karen...every minute I could spare from my extensive and rigorous duties.   
  
Before I knew it I was asking her to marry me.  
  
That was a mere 6 months into our relationship...and the wedding took place a heart-stopping two weeks later in a small church on the base. Our families were surprised to say the least...and neither was happy about the rush.   
  
I just couldn't help myself...we were in love...  
  
God...how young I was...how STUPID.  
  
We were together for a little over two years before it all ended as quickly and dramatically as it had begun.   
  
It's hard not to look back at the whole thing with bitterness, unconsciously coloring my memories of the past with the taint of the future. Truth be told, it wasn't a bad marriage...at least I didn't think so. I was happy...I really was. We had some good times together, and for all I knew then I had found the woman I was going to spend the rest of my life with.  
  
It wasn't perfect...but what relationship is? I used to drive Karen up the wall with my antics, always avoiding the deep subjects. She just loved to psychoanalyze me, and I was never one to share my innermost thoughts...the combination proved to be a sticking point for us. I used to dread when she began to harp about me not 'talking to her about how I feel'.   
  
Then there was the issue of my job.   
  
I don't think Karen really understood what kinds of sacrifices are required of military wives when she married me. To be fair, I didn't really give her much time to think about anything, dragging her to the altar so fast. How well did we really know each other? What did we know about the other's life...family...career...quirks...after only 6 months?   
  
She didn't come from a military family like I did...she had no idea of the hardships involved. Long periods spent alone while I was on a mission, the moving around, and the constant threat that your husband might be injured, or worse yet, killed in the line of duty. It isn't easy, that's for sure...and my commitments and duties were worse than most.  
  
It all came to a head when I told her that my unit was being relocated to the east coast...that we would have to move to North Carolina. She didn't like it one bit...and started in on me about leaving the forces and doing something else with my life.  
  
You know...I considered it...I seriously did. In fact, the night that 'it' happened I had pretty much made my decision. She was my wife after all...and I loved her and wanted a family with her. It was a small sacrifice to make.  
  
Thank God I never had the chance to hand in my resignation.  
  
People say that you should have seen it coming, that these types of things don't just 'happen'...that you should have read the signs. They say that if you had only been more aware of what the other was feeling, more sympathetic...less selfish...that it could have been avoided.  
  
I can't tell you how many nights I lay in bed and thought back on our life together and wondered what it was I did wrong. What could I possibly have handled differently? Could anything I have said or done changed things? Maybe, maybe not...the only thing I know is that she killed a part of me that night.   
  
Killed it but good.  
  
I was supposed to be away on a mission. Actually, I was on a mission, but it had ended very badly...one of the worse we had ever been sent on...a complete fuck up from the get go. None of the information we had been fed by the CIA was correct and I barely made it out of there alive.  
  
We arrived back at base early, shaken and angry at the way things had turned out. All of us were exhausted...and I for one was still a bit shaken. All I wanted to do was get home and see my wife, and seeing the tired look on my face Duke offered to give me a lift home. I was in no shape to drive.   
  
I said goodnight to Duke, walked quietly into the house so as not to wake her, slowly opened the bedroom door and there...  
  
there...  
  
Come on...just SAY it, damn it!  
  
She was 'with' another man. 'With'...as in buck naked and going at it like bloody bunnies on viagra. And not just any other man...not with a stranger...but with one of my close friends from childhood...a guy I trusted with my life...the CIA agent who had sent us on the suicide run...  
  
Devon Greer.  
  
All I remember is the rage...the hurt...the anger burning hot inside me...but I didn't black out. No. I knew exactly what I was doing when I grabbed Devon off my wife and slammed him against a wall. I knew exactly what was happening when I beat him to a very inch of his life.  
  
I would have killed him too...killed him with my bare hands...had Duke not pulled me off. Karen, who had been screeching the whole time, begging me to stop, had gotten on the phone and called the first person she could think.   
  
Thank God for Devon that Duke was just around the corner...as it was the man was in a hospital recovering for weeks.   
  
I was confined to quarters on base for a few days. I don't remember much from that time; it was all a haze of pain. I was just waiting for the MPs to come and take me away...my career was over and for all intents and purposes Leavenworth was my next stop...but I didn't care.   
  
I just didn't care.  
  
Duke, however, managed to brush the whole thing under the table. I don't know how he did it, I don't know why he did it...but one day Roadblock opened the door to my 'prison' and gently told me to pull myself together. We were all heading for North Carolina, and we had a mission to prepare for.   
  
I saw Karen once before I left despite Marvin's advice to leave it be, and as usual he was right. If anything the whole thing only served to push the knife in deeper. I had gone over to hear what she had to say...maybe some part of me was hoping that she would fall into my arms and beg my forgiveness...that it was an act of desperation...that we could get through this together...  
  
Instead...she told me that I was a monster...a killer. That she was afraid of me...  
  
That she didn't love me anymore...that she hadn't in a while.  
  
That maybe she never did...  
  
Every word was like a dagger...every moment agony.  
  
I turned around and walked out without a word...and I never looked back.   
  
I found out later that she had been seeing Devon for over 6 months behind my back, and I never knew.   
  
I found out later that Devon had purposely sent me on that disastrous mission...hoping that I wouldn't come back. In fact, it was this very fact that kept me out of the brig and rescued my career. Duke was suspicious and decided to do a little sniffing around. When this came to light the Sergeant used it to blackmail Greer into dropping the charges against me. Had the CIA found out about his little 'plan'...that he had risked the lives of US soldiers on a personal vendetta...his career...his life would have been as over as mine.  
  
So it was a draw...we both went our separate ways. He ended up with Karen though. I guess I should take some small comfort in knowing that she had nothing to do with his little scheme...to this day I don't think she has any idea what her new lover had pulled.  
  
As for myself...I never spoke of it again. Not to Roadblock, not to Duke...not to my family...not to anyone. It was difficult at first...I tried to stay busy with work in order to keep my mind occupied, but the minute I was alone in my room the pain came back...the terrible feeling of loss and betrayal. Over time, though, I managed to shove it all down so deep that I would never have to deal with it.   
  
It just hurt too much.  
  
And therein lies the problem. I never really dealt with it. Instead I let it sit and fester inside...and every so often it come out in a black rage that I cannot seem to control.   
  
Like today...when Duke commented innocently about the 'great and manly Flint Faireborn being bested by a woman'. How could he have remembered he used those exact words so many years ago to break me out of my black mood days after I had left Karen.  
  
Like Sierra Gordo...when Alison managed to push every button and bring it all back in a rush.   
  
Both times Allie has born the brunt of my pain...and still she looks at me with those eyes...those bright, clear, beautiful green eyes...and all I see inside them is...love. She loves me...the foolish woman.  
  
Don't you know I don't deserve it? All I will ever do is hurt you...  
  
And you can only end up hurting me...  
  
Christ!  
  
Listen to yourself, Faireborn! What did Duke say to you last time you ended up out here alone?..that I was "sulking like some pussy-whipped, shrink-hugging, tantrum-throwing, cowardly, stupid ass therapy case".   
  
Did I mention that Conrad wasn't one to mince words?  
  
He was right though...he was right then and he is right now. It's time for me to get my act together.   
  
I have too much to lose if I don't... 


	20. October 20th cont'

October 20th...cont'  
  
My brother John used to joke that I have a horseshoe wedged up my behind, given my luck. No matter what kind of trouble I get into, no matter what kind of disaster I make of my life, I always seem to land on my feet.  
  
And I am lucky in this instance...incredibly lucky to have found someone like Alison...to have her in my life. And its not like I have made things easy...I sometimes wonder why she hasn't just hauled me out and left me on the street corner with the trash.  
  
I certainly have done nothing to deserve her. If anything my overwhelming 'issues', and my hardheaded, stubborn refusal to commit have accomplished the exact opposite!   
  
"Men in rage strike those that wish them best..."  
  
Yet when I entered her quarters an hour ago...when I walked into her bathroom and sat quietly down on the mat next to the bubble filled tub in which she was relaxing...she turned to me and whispered.  
  
"Are you ok, Dashiell...I was so worried..."  
  
Was 'I' ok!?  
  
I was so taken aback by the question, by the sincerity and concern in her voice that I sat speechless while she put her journal aside, waiting for my answer. I closed my eyes and breathed in the soothing smell of incense she had burning in the room...listened to the calming sounds of Ray Charles playing in the background...  
  
Why couldn't I find the words?  
  
"I'm so sorry, Allie...I didn't mean...I couldn't...I..."  
  
"Shhhh...." I felt her soft wet hand brush my cheek and then I realized I had a tear in my eye. Me...'Flint Faireborn'...tough ass soldier and manly man....crying.  
  
I opened my eyes to find her gazing at me intently, her voice soothing..."It's alright, sweetheart...I understand...everything's going to be alright..."  
  
Hearing the words I said to her so many months ago echoed back at me with such feeling...with such heartfelt belief, I could no longer hold back the tears. I got up and took her hand as she slipped out of the tub, gently wrapping her in a towel as I pulled her into my arms.  
  
Not since I was a little boy crying in my mother's arm over a skinned knee or some grave disappointment or hurt have I shed a tear in front of another human being.   
  
Men don't cry.   
  
How many times have I heard my father utter those words to his sons? We never shed a tear and stand stoic and strong in the face of all adversity. My upbringing was not unusual in any way...ask any guy. From the time we are boys we are taught that there is something inherently wrong with revealing our sensitive side to the world, that if we expose our vulnerability to others we somehow become less of a man. We forget that we are only human after all.  
  
I don't know how long we lay there on the floor together as I wept in her arms. All the pain and grief that I had held inside for so long was released not in anger but in sorrow, and Allie held on to me as my body was wracked with sobs, her voice soothing, her hands soft against my skin.  
  
I know Alison will keep this to herself. I know she will not hold my moment of weakness against me, but I cannot help but feel slightly embarrassed by the scene I made. As I said before, I have never cried in front of another person...not even Karen. Maybe that is my problem...I need to open up and share my feelings with those who care about me.  
  
Well...at least with one person who cares about me...I am certainly not going to break down in front of Marvin...that's for damn sure.  
  
With Alison, however, I think I can finally do so without consequence. Maybe I trust her more than I realize...   
  
She still doesn't know the whole story of my past with Karen...even now I balk at sharing the sordid tale. I know that I am going to have to eventually.  
  
Christ, I feel awful. I am supposed to be comforting her, not the other way around.   
  
It's just so like Alison though. Beneath that tough, fiery, Celtic-hellion lies a thoughtful, caring, giving...and forgiving woman...  
  
Forgiving...   
  
Proust once wrote that there is 'no man, however wise, who has not at some point of his youth said things or lived in a way the consciousness of which is so unpleasant to him in later life that he would gladly, if he could, expunge them from his memory'.  
  
Such is case with our disastrous mission to Sierra Gordo. If there is anything that I wish to forget...to pretend as if it never happened...the scene that took place there and the events that followed would top my list.  
  
The thing is...I won't allow myself to forget it. I won't allow myself to bury this one. I made a promise to myself that I would always remember to what depths I sank that night...a stark and shocking reminder of what I nearly lost through my own foolishness.  
  
It had been a top-secret mission which saw myself, Lady Jaye, Muskrat and Roadblock teamed up with our Russian counterparts the 'October Guard'. An absolute dog's breakfast from the get go, our small team ended up being chased, shot at and harried for several days by COBRA forces. Several of us had been injured in the fighting, including Marvin who had temporarily lost the use of his eyes, and as the field commander I was hard pressed to keep it all together and get us out of the jungle alive.  
  
Regardless of our dire straits, which, truth be told, is part and parcel of what I have to deal with almost every day as a Joe...my mind was not at all on my work. My anxiety, frustration and anger stemmed not from the hardships of the mission, but from another source altogether.  
  
One Lieutenant Gorky.  
  
From the moment we met up on the transport he had been hitting on Lady Jaye with a persistence that amazed even his fellow guard. Usually, I would have stopped him in his tracks before he even got off the ground...I am unusually possessive of Allie at the best of times...but unfortunately having your plane shot down by enemy fire and then running for your life through the jungle precluded me from...how did Jaye put it? 'Marking my territory.  
  
That didn't stop me from switching into macho-jerk mode, and the more I postured the more annoyed Jaye became. The more annoyed she became...the more she flirted right back at Gorky to spite me...the more she flirted the more confident Gorky became...which only served to make me angrier. It was a vicious circle and neither of us was about to end it.  
  
It got so bad that I even tried to leave the Russians behind when the vehicle they were in broke down. I argued that the Desert Fox couldn't possibly take on more passengers and still outrun our pursuers...that they would do the same had situations been reversed. The idea was shot down quickly enough by the others, and Jaye snapped about sticking by people even if I see one of them as a threat to my 'macho self image'.  
  
Was she mad! As angry as I had ever seen her...but I was furious as well. Even more so when Gorky sat himself down comfortably on Jaye's lap. In my jealousy induced state I began to drive like a maniac...taking chances that normally I would never have even considered. As it was I nearly ended up killing us all when I jumped a ravine in an attempt to evade the enemy...it was a miracle that the overloaded Desert Fox made it to the other side and didn't smash against the cliffs.  
  
The rest of the days leading up to the 'incident' continued in much the same vein. Gorky hitting on Jaye, Jaye flirting with Gorky...and me sitting quietly to the side, trying to do my job as anger began to cloud my every thought, my every action. I held it down to the best of my abilities, but for all intents and purposes I was a walking tinderbox...  
  
...and Alison...her frustration with me having reached it's peak after weeks of dancing around each other with regards to the nature of our relationship...decided to strike the match.  
  
I know in her heart Alison blames herself for what happened. Admittedly, for a while some part of me blamed her as well. She played me like a harp, her only intent to hurt me...and hurt me using the very thing she knew...KNEW...would wound me the most. I think that this sent me over the edge more than anything she did or didn't do with Gorky.  
  
Enveloped in her own anger, she pushed at me relentlessly...pushing and pushing even after she saw me attack Gorky. I saw him touch her, I saw him lean in to kiss her...and I lost it. I threw myself at him and only through sheer force were we pried apart. Even after that completely uncharacteristic display (I usually keep things very professional at work) she remained on the offensive.  
  
I should have known enough...been man enough...to just walk away. She couldn't possibly have realized how I would react, how deep my pain was...Marvin had only scratched the surface of my past with her.   
  
I don't think either of us meant it to go as far as it did.  
  
I confronted her later around the perimeter of our makeshift camp, far from prying eyes and ears. I pretty much accused her of sleeping around, pushing her up against the vehicle and growling my dominance, claiming her as mine through sheer physical force and presence. I can imagine how intimidating I looked, I could see a spark of fear in her eyes...but Jaye was never one to back down from a fight.  
  
Our verbal sparring continued as I held her in what must have been a painful grip...each of us spewing venom at the other, words whose sole purpose was to wound...   
  
...and in a war of words, there is no greater master than Lady Jaye.  
  
In a fit of red rage she let slip that she knew about Karen...mentioned her and my relationship in a less than flattering light.   
  
I froze then, feeling the floodgates open...I saw the regret in her eyes as soon as the words were out of her mouth but it was too late. She had INTENDED to hurt me...and she did. Oh God she did!  
  
And I wanted to hurt her back...  
  
In a rage induced haze, I attacked her...attacked her physically, using my strength to overpower her. I...  
  
I....  
  
I began to force myself on her...the actions purely sexual. I was out of my mind with anger and grief...I wanted to hurt her...I wanted to...  
  
Christ...  
  
I managed to stop myself for a moment. I managed to rein in my anger before things went too far. She made eye contact with me and I saw the fear...it brought me back to my senses and I started to back off...but Jaye would have none of it. She held the power now and she knew it, and she was angry and hurt enough to use it to land the killing blow.  
  
"You BASTARD...you fucking bastard..." she hissed through clenched teeth..."you are nothing but an ANIMAL!!!"  
  
That was all it took...at those words...at that moment, it was Karen standing before me not Alison...and I lost all control.  
  
I took her then...I took her in anger...there was no love in the action, no pleasure in the joining. I did it solely to hurt her...I wanted to hurt her. I wanted to make her suffer...  
  
I don't think she could have stopped me even if she wanted to.  
  
We didn't say a word to each other for the rest of the mission...I spoke to no one except to give orders while Lady Jaye carried them out like an automaton. When we finally got back to headquarters I took off in my car before I even signed in.   
  
I was gone for three days, maybe four...I lost count. I moved from bar to bar, sleeping in my car, running from demons only I could see. I drank like a fish, drowning my sorrow in beer. Even after I left Karen I never indulged like this...but now...now I couldn't deal with anything anymore. I just wanted to be left alone in my drunken stupor, left alone to wallow in my misery...for I had driven the one person I cared for the most out of my life forever.  
  
I had lost Alison.  
  
It was Duke who found me; hung-over and miserable as I sat on a rock near my car, watching the desert.   
  
"Jesus Christ, Flint...you smell awful." He said as he got out of the jeep and watched as it drove off before walked towards me, "You look like shit too."  
  
"Go away, Duke..." I grumbled, not looking up.  
  
"Not a chance in hell...you're just lucky I didn't send the MPs to haul your drunken ass back to base." He commented nonchalantly as I listened to him shuffle around behind me, "You're AWOL, soldier, in case you have forgotten the rules we all live by...now where are your car keys."  
  
"Send them...I'm not going back..."  
  
"Don't pull this shit with me Faireborn...you get your ass into this car right now!" He barked, "That's an order!"  
  
I got up and swung around to face him, painted on my face a spiteful and condescending smile.  
  
"An order? I outrank you, *Sergeant*...or have you forgotten?"  
  
"Really?" he smiled with amusement and barely concealed impatience, "I'm sure Hawk would love to hear your interpretation of Joe Hierarchy..."  
  
"Fuck Joe..."  
  
"I will pretend I didn't hear that...get in the car."  
  
"Fuck that...I'm not going anywhere..."  
  
Suddenly, Duke turned and before I knew it his fist had hit me square in the stomach. I doubled over in pain.  
  
"Get up, you sorry ass excuse for a soldier. " he yelled in his best drill sergeant voice, 'You can't even fight me, you're so busy sulking like some drunken therapy case...maybe you shoulf run away again like the coward you are."  
  
Those words triggered the exact reaction he had hoped to elicit from me. I got up and took a swing but I was too slow...exhaustion and the effects of copious amounts of alcohol had dulled my reaction time. Before I knew it I was face down in the dirt again groaning in pain as Duke stood over me.   
  
"Look at you...you can't even land a punch! Pathetic!" he snorted his disdain, "I am sick to death of cleaning up after you! What the HELL were you thinking, striking that Russian officer?!"  
  
I was still struggling to catch my breath and couldn't reply. I don't think he expected one.  
  
"You are just lucky that Marvin got to Hawk before the Russians did. Now get up!"  
  
I didn't move.  
  
"GET UP!"   
  
"Christ Conrad," I whispered, "Why can't you just leave me be?"  
  
He paused for a moment...watching me...and I heard and exasperated sigh leave his mouth before he replied in a softer tone.  
  
"Because, Dash, you are one of the best damn soldiers I have ever worked with. Because I hate to see all your potential wasted over this 'thing' that you can't seem to shake. Because the men you work with all respect and look up to you despite your big headed, big mouthed, and, needless to say, very annoying habits... "  
  
He took a breath before continuing.  
  
"...but mostly because I am your friend and you know I will always have your back no matter what kind of shit you pull."  
  
We sat quietly for a moment before Duke grabbed me and pulled me up into a sitting position...leaning me up against my car. .  
  
"Dashiell...I don't know what happened out there...I don't know if I really care to find out...but my best soldier disappeared for three days on a drinking binge and another good soldier...and Hawk's favorite I might add...hasn't emerged from her room in three days. She hasn't answered the phone, hasn't eaten...hasn't even turned on the light according to Cover Girl, and Red isn't here to help snap her out of it..."  
  
At his words I looked up sharply, meeting his eyes for the first time since he came out to get me.  
  
"Is she ok?"  
  
"I don't know, Flint...I honestly don't know..." he shook his head and continued.  
  
"I've half a mind to transfer both your sixes to opposite ends of the country, you know..." he snapped, his face flashing anger again, "I know Hawk is going to do it if he catches wind of what is going on. His tolerance of your 'relationship' will end and end quickly as soon as he sees Jaye..."  
  
I looked down at the ground...I deserved this...I deserved every second of it. And so what if she is transferred away...its over...  
  
"Fuck it, Dash...stop sulking! Christ...I warned you not to get involved with her..."  
  
"I should have listened..."  
  
"Yes...yes you should have listened. But you never do, do you? You just go off half cocked like some John Wayne wanna-be...rushing into everything without thinking."  
  
He paused again, sliding down to so sit beside me leaning against the door of the car.  
  
"You asked me once why I brought you in to GIJOE...if it was because I knew your strengths. Do you remember what I told you?"  
  
I shifted my weight as I tried in vain to get comfortable. The pain had subsided but I knew I was going to be sore the next day.  
  
"...That you knew my weaknesses."  
  
"Yes. I know your weaknesses...and knowing them I can adjust my plans accordingly." He sighed, "You don't have many...other than a big mouth and a bad temper...but the one that seems to give you the most trouble is your heart. You've got too much heart, Faireborn...and it clouds your judgment...colors everything you do..."  
  
I closed my eyes as his words sunk in. I knew where this was heading...he WAS splitting us up.  
  
"On the other hand I sometimes wonder if it is really a weakness...sometimes I think it is your greatest strength...and I can't help but envy you. I wish I had it..."  
  
"I must be listening to Marvin too much...he's bloody making me soft. Next thing you know I will be writing an advice column!" He hissed to himself, "Look...I am taking you back to base right now and you are going to go in there and try to patch things up with Jaye..."  
  
I looked up sharply at him...more shocked than anything.  
  
"What. You can't be serious!" I shook my head as I got up and began to pace "You don't know what happened...there is nothing left to patch...its over..."  
  
"Bullshit..."  
  
"IT'S OVER!" I snapped, my voice betraying my pain.  
  
"Not until I say it is, soldier!" Duke got up and snapped back, "I am NOT going to let you ruin your life over something that happened 10 years ago. You are going to haul your cowardly ass back to base and you are going to deal with this once and for all..."  
  
"but..."  
  
"Enough...I don't want to hear it!" he barked, "Karen is gone. She was a bitch and good riddance. Lady Jaye is twenty times the woman she ever was and you damn well know it. Not only that, and god knows why, she seems to have a soft spot for you despite your arrogant, big mouth, trouble making, sorry ass ways. No one ever said life was easy, and you have been through more shit than most...but I'll be damned if I let you use it as an excuse for the rest of your days...NOW SHUT UP AND GET IN THE CAR!"  
  
Needless to say I was so stunned that I quietly did as I was told.  
  
I think that walking into her room right then was the hardest thing I have ever done in my life. Harder than any black ops mission, harder than facing and army of BATS, harder even than leaving Karen.  
  
It was pitch black when I entered, and as my eyes adjusted I noticed Roadblock walking towards me.  
  
"How is she? " I whispered, not wanting to wake her.  
  
"Better than she was," he looked back at her, "I have stayed with her, but its not me she needs right now."  
  
"Its not me either, I'm sure..."  
  
He put a hand on my shoulder and smiled sadly.  
  
"Don't sell yourself short, my friend..." he began to make his way towards the door when I stopped him.  
  
"What do I say, Marvin? What can I possibly say to..."  
  
"Dash, my man...just listen to your heart and you will find the words..." and with that he was gone.  
  
I approached her slowly, sitting myself on the edge of the bed while my hand went to gently stroke her hair. She looked awful...probably as bad as I did at the moment. Poor thing...  
  
Suddenly her eyes opened and she watched me warily, as if not quite believing that it was actually me sitting next to her. But when she realized it was not a dream, her eyes widened and she began to move away. It hurt me, but I didn't hesitate...I grabbed her in my arms and held her tight as she struggled against me...held her as if my life depended on it.   
  
I guess in some ways it did.  
  
Soon the fighting subsided and she relaxed against me...crying...sobbing...wracked with grief as I rocked her back and forth, kissing her gently, whispering soothing words in her ear.  
  
"I'm here, sweetheart...I'm here. I'm so sorry...god I am so sorry. Please forgive me...I never meant to hurt you. Shhhh baby...its not your fault...you couldn't have known...its going to be alright...everything's going to be ok."  
  
Looking back I think, more than anything, that this whole incident was a turning point in my life. I knew I loved her after Grenada...but I didn't realize the depth and extent of it until I sat in her darkened room holding her close until she stopped crying, until I showed her a battered old picture of Karen I used to carry around in my pocket, until I felt the deep rumble in my throat as the words began to pour forth from my heart as Marvin said they would...  
  
"A heavy heart, Belovèd, have I borne   
From year to year until I saw thy face,   
And sorrow after sorrow took the place   
Of all those natural joys as lightly worn   
As the stringed pearls, each lifted in its turn   
By a beating heart at dance-time. Hopes apace   
Were changed to long despairs, till God's own grace   
Could scarcely lift above the world forlorn   
My heavy heart. Than thou didst bid me bring   
And let it drop adown thy calmly great   
Deep being! Fast it sinketh, as a thing   
Which its own nature doth precipitate,   
While thine doth close above it, mediating   
Betwixt the stars and the unaccomplished fate"  
  
Poetry...I recited poetry to her as she watched me in astonishment. It had been years since I had been inspired enough, brave enough, to surrender myself to the words...and as I opened my eyes and saw her face I knew it had worked its magic.  
  
Oh Allie...I am not ready to say those three faithful words...but as I sit here remembering all we have been through together...all I have put you through...I feel a need to tell you how grateful I am that you are in my life.  
  
Be patient with me...Alison, I am trying. I promise you one day soon I will find the words to tell you how I feel...and find the courage to say them. 


	21. October 30th

October 30th,  
  
I met some of the new recruits today...nothing much to speak of really. Hawk seems bound and determined to bring every Tom, Dick and Harry into this outfit.   
  
General Clayton Abernathy...the Tomahawk...is a great leader, and it is truly an honor to serve under his command. Nevertheless, as much as I admire and respect him, there are times when I strongly disagree with the decisions he makes. This flood of new Joes is one of them.  
  
As far as I am concerned, the team was doing just fine with what we already had...a core of some of the best soldiers this man's army has to offer. If you take a close look at the personnel roster you will notice that the men that signed on in recent years rarely lasted more than 6 months before quietly being put on the sidelines. The veterans, on the other hand, are still in the action.  
  
In fact, if I take this line of thinking to its logical conclusion, I would propose that GIJOE could survive perfectly well with the small group of soldiers it had before we moved to Utah, give or take a few latecomers.  
  
Its not that the new recruits aren't good...no, these guys have some pretty impressive qualifications...but it takes more than that to make it in GIJOE. Some of these kids coming in have hardly ANY real battle experience whatsoever...totally green.  
  
And don't get me started on the special units!  
  
Eco Warriors (of which I am constantly reminded), Battle Force 2000...what the hell was that? It sounded like a Spielberg movie to me! Oh...and who can forget my all time favorite...Ninja Force!  
  
The place is getting to look like something out of a bloody comic book!  
  
As I have never been one to keep my opinions to myself, it was inevitable that I 'shared' my thoughts on the matter with Hawk earlier this week.   
  
"A comic book..." Hawk smirked and raised an eyebrow, "...really?"   
  
"Come on, sir...we have guys running around the desert in neon pjs! This isn't a bloody dojo! And now I am hearing rumors of something called Star Brigade! Next thing you know we will have the Millennium Falcon parked on level two..."  
  
"Flint I think..."  
  
"...I understand that we were spread out pretty thin some months, but we made due. Hell, we more than made due! GIJOE is supposed to be the elite...not rejects from Magnum PI"  
  
"Yes...but you don't..."  
  
"And speaking of Chuckles...what the hell do we need another covert ops specialist for...we have one already...and a damn good one at that. That guy sticks out worse than a polar bear in Florida..."  
  
"FLINT!!" the General barked suddenly, completely derailing my train of thought.  
  
"Sir?"   
  
Needless to say, that tirade didn't go over too well.  
  
I'm not an idiot; I understand that his hands are tied. I just can't decide whether or not this is a poorly conceived PR scheme by some suit on Capitol Hill...our team has become less and less 'secret' these past few months...or if the Jugglers are up to their old tricks and this whole recruiting drive is nothing but an elaborate ploy to discredit us.  
  
Or maybe Hawk actually thinks that these people can contribute positively to the team. Given the General's reputation and experience, I can't help but think there might be something I am missing...some subtlety that I have failed to take into account.  
  
What do I know...I'm 'JUST' a soldier; I don't have the time or the patience for politicking!   
  
As much as I disapprove of this whole recruiting fiasco, I did meet one new Joe whom I quite like despite her being a ninja. Sure her file says she is Intel, but the minute I saw her with Snakes and Scarlett, the moment I noticed the symbol on her arm...I knew...  
  
Arashikage.  
  
Of course, Ninja or not, it goes without saying that any friend of Snakes is a friend of mine.  
  
A cute girl with a happy attitude and a fun loving nature despite the seriousness of her family 'business', she is quite easy to get along with. Snakes and Stormy should take a lesson from her...just because you are come from a clan of martial arts master assassins doesn't mean you have to be dour and serious all the time!  
  
Anyhow...on top of all this she knows Alison! Apparently they went to Bryn Mawr together and traveled in the same crowd. From the moment the two saw each other in the mess I knew that this little spitfire was someone I was going to be getting to know quite well...I am still chuckling to myself as I recall the stories she told of Jaye's life before Joe!  
  
I don't care WHO I have to kill; I am going to get my hands on that video of Allie doing ABBA on the front lawn of the university campus!  
  
Who would have guessed that the serious and professional Lady Jaye was such a troublemaker in her youth!   
  
There is SO much I still don't know about her!  
  
Would you believe I had no idea she could sing? I knew she could act, but when Jinx mentioned that she had an award winning voice, I was completely surprised! She had never mentioned it, and god knows I have never heard her hum even a note.  
  
Mind you, if one didn't have access to her file I doubt one would ever know she was...is...a highly acclaimed actress!  
  
I have seen her on stage only twice, both times completely unbeknownst to her as she never shares her schedule of appearances with others. I doubt anyone is aware she still hits the stage from time to time.  
  
I found out about the plays by fluke, once discovering the program in her room, her name in bold letter at the front...once when I inadvertently overheard her speaking with the director over the phone.  
  
I sat in the back, hidden amongst the substantial crowd and watched quietly as she took the stage. I knew she would be angry if she discovered me there...and as much as I wanted to walk up and congratulate her on a job well done I merely snuck out the exit as soon as the production was over and made my way back to base.  
  
To her acting is something private, something deeply personal, much as the books hidden deep within my gear are to me. Acting is a part of herself that she wants to keep separate from her current life...maybe a part of her past that she clings to. As I mentioned, I know very little about her life before she joined the team...snippets here and there but I feel that much has been left unsaid...unrevealed.  
  
There are parts of her that are still a complete mystery to me. If anything meeting Jinx today drove that home.  
  
Sometimes I wonder if the woman I know is merely a character she plays...as far removed from her true self as when she plays Ophelia or Arial...or any of the other personalities to which she has been cast. I asked her that once, in one of our quieter moments, long after Grenada.   
  
She turned and looked up at the ceiling of my room, her eyes unreadable as she considered her reply.  
  
"Maybe...I don't know. Sometimes I think Lady Jaye doesn't really exist...that she is someone I made up...someone who I have always wanted to be but could never really given who I am...a Hart."  
  
"You seem real enough to me."  
  
"I suppose..." She sighed, "...but aren't we all just playing a part? You of all people should understand the quandary. Are you Flint or are you Dashiell...?"  
  
"Depends on the day..." I smiled softly as I pushed the hair out of her eyes.  
  
"'All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players; they have their exits and their entrances and one man in his time plays many parts'."  
  
"As You Like It?" I cocked an eyebrow, always impressed when she is able to pull quotes like that out of thin air...but I wasn't about to be outdone in that department.  
  
"I guess that makes me 'the soldier', 'jealous in honor and sudden and quick in quarrel?'" I frowned as I turned to her, "...but then who are you?"  
  
"Depends on the day..." she winked.   
  
She never did answer my question.  
  
Alison certainly pours herself into the characters she plays. She 'became' Beatrice in a production of Much Ado About Nothing and wowed the crowd with her performance. She transformed herself into Titania in A Midsummer Nights Dream...and the audience was in awe. She fit the latter so very well...as there is something almost Fey about Allie in real life. It comes as no surprise that she would play the queen of the fairy folk so adeptly.   
  
She is truly an artist...every line, every gesture, every look is studied yet as natural as if she was actually the person in question and not a mere actress playing a role. It is what makes her such an incredible Covert Ops agent. There are times when we have been on assignment when even I didn't recognize her!  
  
I sometimes wonder, when Joe finally calls it quits and we are all spit out into the 'real world' once more, if the woman standing beside me would be the same one I have grown to love or some stranger I hardly recognize.  
  
Silly, isn't it?  
  
Regardless, spurred on by the stories told by her old friend over dinner, I began to ask Jaye questions as we settled in for the night. Since the...ummmm...incident in the bathroom ten days ago we've pretty much moved in together. I don't think I have been back to my quarters since!  
  
In any case, as we sat on the bed going over the days events I began to ask her about friends and family...about her childhood...things of which I knew only bits and pieces. I inquired of her late father...always a tender point...and asked about her travels with him.  
  
She raised an eyebrow in surprise and suspicion, but after convincing her of my sincerity (no...I was not going to blackmail her with the information...) she slowly began to speak of her life before Joe. I even saw pictures of her and her family which had been hidden in an old shoebox under her bed.  
  
I saw photos of her dad and her at the foot of some ruins in Peru, of her cousins as teens, bruised and filthy but smiling after a rough game of Rugby, her aunt surrounded by a pack of huge shaggy grey dogs, her uncle coming back from a hunt with his sons and Allie in tow, she and her friends at grade school all dressed up in their uniforms...kilts, knee socks, penny loafers...Allie sporting two long braids! There was a picture of her on a horse...her horse...a big bay with a white sock and white stripe down his face, and a really cute one of her...she looked about six years old...in a little flowery sun dress, smiling in delight as she bottle fed a lion cub.  
  
"That's some kitten, Al...It looks about as big as you were!" I laughed.  
  
"My dad left me at the wildlife center in Tanzania for a couple of days while he was off with the Leakys"  
  
"Louis Leaky...of Olduvai Gorge fame?"  
  
"The same...my family, through my father of course, helped fund their research before the National Geographic Society took over. As a result my father was invited to help with the dig...I was still too young to go into the bush...it wasn't safe with the wildlife and all. How ironic that I should be left in the care of what amounted to a pride of orphaned lions, a herd of zebra and two baby elephants!"  
  
There was a fabulous picture of her dressed as a young Queen Elizabeth for a production at Julliard, more of friends from her university days...including a young Jinx, one of her and her cousins as kids swimming in what looked to be a highland stream, and a couple of her and another girl sailing 'in the annual Vineyard regatta' she added as description, pointing to one of the trophies on her bookshelf.  
  
"We retired that trophy...won the cup five summers in a row...no one could touch us"  
  
I even saw a photo of the notorious Shawn...her past love. A striking gentleman, he sported a wool sweater and cords, an amused and intelligent spark in his eye drawing the viewer as he laughed at something that had caught his attention behind the camera...his arm around Alison who smiled in amusement, her face relaxed. They were attending some outdoor festival in Ireland.  
  
Looking closely, it was not very hard to catch the incredible age difference between the two.   
  
"You never told me he was your professor..." I mentioned quietly, referring to one of Jinx's earlier revelations. I looked up to find her still staring sadly at the photograph, her eyes unreadable.  
  
"He was 'A' professor...I only took one class under him, and that was before we..." she left the words unsaid.  
  
"You...loved him...." I stated. Surprisingly enough, my tone was not confrontational, but sympathetic. I knew about Shawn...not much...but enough to infer that he had been a big part of her life back then...and if there was anything I understood and understood well it was the pain of lost love.  
  
She looked up at me and smiled softly as she took my hand and squeezed it, the simple gesture carrying more meaning than words could ever say.   
  
My favorite though, was a lovely black and white of her dressed in a tight fitting black leotard, toe shoes, and a sheer little skirt, practicing at the bar in an empty dance studio. Sunlight was streaming in from the huge picture windows that graced the entire back wall, illuminating her perfectly as the camera caught her in a graceful pose, her face relaxed and beautiful...her hair tied loosely away from her face.  
  
"Its like a Degas!" I exclaimed as I held the picture up to the light.  
  
"Yeah, that's me...Prima Ballerina...NOT!" she laughed.  
  
"It looks like you know what you were doing...you look...damn, you look beautiful..."  
  
"Thanks, but it takes something more to get into the National Ballet School." She sighed, "That was my mother's dream for me when I was little, you know...she wanted me to be a dancer. I used to love ballet, but she pushed and pushed until she drained the joy right out of it."  
  
She paused and looked at the picture before continuing.  
  
"Ah well...it wasn't meant to be anyways. When I was twelve the school evaluated me and said I would never be a dancer...I did not have the correct body type. Something about my back or my joints, I don't remember. I liked acting better anyhow...and the dancing took too much time away from my other activities."  
  
"You look older than twelve in this picture..."  
  
"Ahhhh...yes...I think this was taken just before I left for the army..." she nodded, "...just because I couldn't do it professionally doesn't mean I could no longer dance. With the pressure taken off me I started enjoying it again. Its good exercise...keeps you flexible."  
  
I bent to pick up another picture that had appeared in the pile, this one of her in army fatigues and combat boots, holding on to an M-16 and going through an obstacle course in what looked like basic training, and held it against the black and white of her dancing.   
  
The stark and striking contrast between the two illustrated so perfectly what I was describing earlier. The women in these two photos might as well be completely different people!   
  
I always knew she came from money...that she had enjoyed a privileged childhood, but going through this box of photos brought it home better than any high and mighty snobbery she spit out...the haughty attitude she can turn on at a moments notice.  
  
Which begs the question...what is she doing in the army?  
  
Her family doesn't have a history of military service. She has already traveled extensively so 'seeing the world' was obviously not a selling point for her. She has, or had...if you believe the tales of her disinheritance, Porsche notwithstanding...more money than she knows what to do with and doesn't need to work...and even if she did her impressive arts background and academic qualifications along with the family name would have opened doors for her that many can only dream of.   
  
Why go military?  
  
Her answer, as it always is when I ask her this question, was a vague comment about never being one to back away from a challenge.  
  
I didn't push her for more details, not wanting to tempt the fates! I am well aware that had she NOT signed up I would never have met her. No matter what drove her to devote her life to the military, I am eternally grateful!   
  
The rest of the pictures were of her and her army buddies from boot camp and Int school...along with several from GIJOE. Scarlett, Snakes, Duke and Roadblock...Ripcord and her after a jump, Ace and her sitting on the wing of an f-14 (grrrrr), and quite a few of a handsome looking fellow sporting a beret and a lopsided grin!  
  
"Hmmmm...now look at THIS guy...good looking, dashing, intelligent..." I grinned as I pointed to a picture of me sitting on a tank, before pausing as I noticed a lone photograph sitting at the bottom of the box.  
  
"Who is this?" I picked it up before Jaye could grab it from my hands. Captured on it was a beautiful woman leaning against a car outside what looked like a tennis club. She was wearing a white polo shirt and white shorts, her curly, dark brown hair long and hanging loose to her shoulders. Her skin looked soft and tanned, her body shapely, her eyes bright and intelligent.  
  
In her arms was a very small little girl sucking her thumb and looking decidedly bored.  
  
"She...she looks just like..." I paused and looked up at Alison, "...like you!"  
  
"Its my mother..." she said in clipped tone, her face falling as she quickly began to put the pictures back in the box.  
  
Her mother...the 'Wicked Witch of the East Coast' from what little I know of her. So this is the famous Katherine Hart!  
  
"She doesn't look so bad..." I began but she interrupted.  
  
"You haven't met her...believe me, she is a piece of work..." she took the picture from my hand and placed it back in the box, "That's enough about me, don't you think?"  
  
"Yes but..."   
  
She leaned forward and silenced me with a kiss.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"For what?"  
  
"For asking..."  
  
That was the end of it. I knew that I had hit a sore spot. Although I am usually a complete and utter moron when it comes to her, I am slowly learning when to push forward and when to drop the subject.   
  
This is definitely something that will have to wait.   
  
Of course, that doesn't mean I am not going to drive her insane until she sings for me! No way in hell...  
  
Now if I can only get my hands on that ABBA video! 


	22. November 3rd

November 3rd,  
  
Well, Faireborn...congratulations. You've done it again...  
  
Its an quite an amazing talent, really...I doubt anyone could match the speed and skill in which I expertly insert my foot into my mouth.  
  
All I had to do was ask her to the damn thing in Washington. Mistake number one was trying to make this assignment into something of a date. Mistake number two was mentioning that I was ordered to ask her. Oh, and who could forget mistake number three...the 'piece de resistance'...commenting on her lack of appropriate wardrobe.  
  
Game.   
  
Set.   
  
Match.  
  
Allie and I don't really 'do' the dinner/movie/dancing/romantic evening 'date' thing. I could easily blame the enigmatic nature of our relationship and my own behavior for this state of affairs...at this point I am pretty certain Jaye does...but to be honest it can simply be ascribed to a military lifestyle that precludes any overt gestures of couple-hood.  
  
Although Hawk tends to look the other way, others in the military would have us court marshaled before you could say 'fraternization'. As it is, our erstwhile leader is less than pleased about the whole arrangement, especially when it interferes with the ability to do our jobs. This isn't some desk gig where you can slack off...here if you aren't 100% it can mean your life...or the lives of your soldiers.  
  
For the most part we have managed to keep our private and personal lives separate, but every so often we slip up. The argument in Trans Carpathia is one example, the time a VIPER escaped from the pit while Jaye and I were...ummm...otherwise occupied is another...oh, and then there was the time I tried to strangle Ace in the locker room when he mentioned that he had eyes for her, that didn't go over too well...and of course the disaster that was Sierra Gordo...  
  
Ok...maybe it happens more often than I previously thought.  
  
Of course, when things do get out of hand I usually bear the brunt of the General's anger regardless of whether or not it is actually my fault. Man, I remember how much that used to irritate me...Duke wasn't kidding when he mentioned that Lady Jaye was the General's favorite.   
  
Admittedly, this latest incident was entirely my doing, and the dressing down I received not long after was well deserved if a little over the top. It's not as though this is some suicide run to COBRA Island. It's a party, for Christ's sake!  
  
I mean, what am I supposed to think when the Tomahawk calls Duke and I into the office and tells us he hopes we can still fit into our dress uniforms!  
  
"Sir?" we both asked in unison, our faces sporting twin expressions of confusion. He chuckled and pushed two envelopes across his desk towards us.  
  
"We are going to a White House function and I need you two looking smart..." he turned to me fixed me with a glare "...and on your best behavior"  
  
"Isn't this type of gig usually reserved for officers, sir" Duke asked as he took the envelope and opened it.  
  
"Yes...but you two enlisted boys are the best candidates for this particular mission."  
  
"Mission?" I looked up questioningly at the word, "Are we on protection detail...I thought the secret service handled that kind of thing. Unless there's been a COBRA threat..."  
  
"No...no threat that we know of. At least not from COBRA. We are going in as guests of the President. This is a fact-finding mission only...unarmed...no funny business..."  
  
"I am not quite sure I understand... " I looked at the tickets and my face went a little pale. 1000 dollars a couple!!!!  
  
"White House, Flint...you know...Washington DC, the nation's capitol, the place where our Commander in Chief resides..." Duke smirked at his attempt at humor.  
  
"What I mean, sir..." I shot my friend a murderous look before continuing. "...If this is going to be a politicking, lobbying, schmoozing thing I doubt I'm the best candidate. I am not known for my patience around suits. Ask Duke..."  
  
"He's right..." Duke interrupted me, his eyes sparkling with evil delight, "...it would be like letting a bull loose in a china shop. You know what he's like! Never knows when to keep his mouth shut..."  
  
"It was a rhetorical question, Conrad..."  
  
"By the time the time the evening was over Flint will have managed to alienate almost every senator on Capitol Hill..."  
  
"I think he gets the point..."  
  
"... Punch out the head of the CIA, hit on every female in the vicinity and single handedly..."   
  
"HAUSER!"  
  
"...bring down GIJOE by getting our funding cut once and for all."  
  
"Enough you two!" Hawk barked, but I could see the amusement playing in his eyes. The man hates me; I just know it.  
  
"I know, Flint. Personally, I would rather have you running the show back here while we're gone..."  
  
"But you just handed me the tickets..."  
  
"They're for Lady Jaye..." he smiled, "I figured you were going to be her date for the evening no matter what I have to say on the matter, and as she is currently in a meeting with our new Covert Ops agent and I am off to Washington in the next twenty minutes I am asking you to give her the orders."  
  
"But sir..."  
  
"Flint Faireborn, male escort..." Duke was barely holding back the laughter.  
  
"Shut up, Duke..." I growled before remembering where I was. I did my best to look sheepish.  
  
"Sorry sir..."  
  
"Would you rather she take someone else, Faireborn?" He asked nonchalantly, but I could see the amusement in his eyes. "I think Ace is available..."  
  
He definitely hates me.  
  
"No Sir."  
  
"Well then, I will see you all in Washington...dismissed." He waved us off, "Oh...and one more thing Flint..."  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"Find Hauser here a date with half a brain in her head. We are going to be hob-knobbing with Washington elite...I need people there that can discuss something other than plastic surgery."  
  
Duke's face fell and I barely managed to keep a straight face as I saluted the General.  
  
"I'll see what I can do, sir...but don't expect a miracle on such short notice!" Hawk chuckled and waved us off.  
  
Maybe he doesn't hate me after all!   
  
Mind you, he wasn't thrilled when he found out I had managed to screw up his simple orders. I don't know which was worse, Hawk reaming into me over the phone from DC or my little *Kate* throwing the tickets in my face and stomping out of the room in a huff.  
  
She hates it when I call her that. I dubbed her *Kate* early on in our relationship, as we lay sweaty and exhausted after a wild 'session' under the stars. Despite how it sounds, the encounter was hardly romantic. It had started out as a huge fight over something trivial, the two of us reaming into each other as we returned from late night patrol...Alpine and Leatherneck having relieved us.  
  
One minute we are ready to rip each other's heads off and the next we are ripping each other's clothes off. Pretty typical of our relationship during those first few months...that first year.   
  
In any case, once we were done and lay panting in each others arms I remember looking down at her...her face lit softly by the moon high above...her eyes dancing in amusement and the remains of the anger over our 'disagreement'...and the words came into my head and out of my mouth before I could stop them.  
  
I had called her 'my little Kate'.  
  
Any other woman would have immediately gathered her things and left in disgust...slapping me across the face for good measure. God knows I have done that before...called a woman in my bed by another lovers name...usually during some one-night stand, or with a woman so unremarkable as to leave my thoughts as soon as the act was complete.   
  
Alison, however, is well read and knew me well enough by then to pick up the literary reference.  
  
She assumed I was referring to the Shakespearian comedy 'Taming of the Shrew', the bard being one of her areas of expertise as an actress. This, of course, did not amuse her in the least...although there are days when she can be as shrill as the female lead.  
  
She frowned at me and growled a line from act four softly but clearly.  
  
"By this reck'ning, he is more shrew than she..."  
  
I smiled at her, knowing from her tone that she was too exhausted to continue our earlier argument, as is the usual result of our coupling...and in amusement over our current truce I pulled a quote from that selfsame play.  
  
"I am as peremptory are she is proud, and were two raging fires meet together they do consume the thing that makes the fury..."  
  
She merely rolled her eyes as I laughed, helping her up. Getting caught lying half naked in the middle of a field by your CO was not something either of us wanted to deal with.   
  
The thing is, I was actually referring to a poem by Tennyson whose words always echo through my head when she looks at me with those dark, fiery eyes and I realize I am in deep, deep shit...  
  
I know her by her angry air,  
Her bright black eyes, her bright black hair, Her rapid laughters wild and shrill,  
As laughter of the woodpecker  
From the bosom of a hill.  
'Tis Kate - she sayeth what she will:  
For Kate hath an unbridled tongue,  
Clear as the twanging of a harp.  
Her heart is like a throbbing star.  
Kate hath a spirit ever strung  
Like a new bow, and bright and sharp  
As the edges of a scimitar.  
Whence shall she take a fitting mate?  
For Kate no common love will feel;  
My woman-soldier, gallant Kate,  
As pure and true as blades of steel.  
  
She is a tough little thing...'my woman-soldier'...but when she smiles, when she laughs, when I watch her concentrating on her work, when I watch her sleep, when I see her face soften and her body relax, I remember that she is so much more than just a *Kate*.  
  
Mind you, when she left on her latest assignment with Dialtone and Chuckles in tow the scene was pure Tennyson.  
  
'Unbridled tongue' indeed.  
  
You might have noticed the two of us are rarely assigned the same orders of late. The hijacking attempt of the Russian jetliner and that mission to Wokukerland with Snakes and Scarlett were rare and notable exceptions to what has become the norm for us around here.  
  
It seems that the GIJOE's lax interpretation of military law only goes so far.   
  
The split isn't complete. The 'high ups' know the two of us work well together and would probably never dissolve the partnership entirely. Nevertheless, lately we seem to end up apart more often than we are together.  
  
I'm almost certain the scene in Sierra Gordo had a hand in the decision, although I am beginning to wonder whether or not my conversation...sorry, argument...with Duke a few months ago had any bearing on the current situation.  
  
In any case, as much as I hate to see her go off without me, I am slowly beginning to understand why Hawk is doing it. Duke says he is grooming me for leadership...and my duties lately certainly back that statement up...every mission carries more and more responsibility, every order more complex and far reaching.  
  
I am a part of the decision making process now, and am currently planning long range strategy. Hey, I'm even on my way to the White House! Escort for Lady Jaye or not, I have a sneaking suspicion that Hawk wants to introduce me to the top brass...I know he has big plans for my future in the military...  
  
...but on top of it, I think he is also preparing me for the inevitable.   
  
The rules we all live by were not randomly pulled out of a hat...they were established for good reasons.  
  
I don't know what I would do if I was out in the field and a decision I made resulted in Alison being seriously injured or, God forbid, killed. I don't think I would survive it. In fact I know I wouldn't.  
  
Worse...what if I KNEW the success of the operation and the safety of the men under my command rested on my ordering her into the line of fire. What if I had to leave her behind in order to get the job done.   
  
What if I was faced with a choice...some poor soldier who is under my command or her. How would I choose? Is it fair to leave that man to his fate when he deserves EXACTLY the same consideration from me as any other person who follows my orders.  
  
Can I be that unbiased? Can I make those hard choices? Can I sit back and watch Alison die regardless of it being 'the right thing to do'?  
  
No.   
  
I can't.  
  
It would be too easy for me to say yes...yes I could make those kinds of dispassionate command decisions when she is involved. But theory and reality are two different animals. I am a strong man, I am a good leader. I know I have it in me to go far in this organization.   
  
But I am also human.  
  
I do my very best out in the field, I always give the work my all...but if it came down to the wire there is no question in my mind that I would protect Allie with my life regardless of tactics and strategy, regardless of the good of the mission, or of the well-being of the other men on the team.  
  
Moreover, in the aftermath of such a decision heart driven decision, I know in some way I would end up resenting her for it...blaming her for my weakness...  
  
Kill her or kill our relationship...some choice! Either would surely destroy me.  
  
Fraternization...women in combat...two regulations that GIJOE has managed to skirt, to push to the limits of legal interpretation. And in the end, what did it accomplish but prove how important those conventions really are?  
  
I don't care how open minded a man is... you are always biased, consciously or unconsciously, towards the person that you love. Your instinct is going to be to protect a woman in the field of battle. I don't care how highly trained you are...its ingrained into our very being...a reflex action...drilled into us from day one. Feminists be damned...no man is going to sit idly by while a woman is in danger.  
  
How could you and still live with yourself at the end of the day? Its hard enough being a soldier, its hard enough being responsible for the lives of your men and the people you are protecting without the added burden of fighting beside your lover, your wife, the mother of your children...  
  
So Hawk is preparing me for the inevitable. The relationship between Jaye and I has grown past the point where he is willing to look the other way. He is thinking of the good of the team, the stability of the command structure, the future...  
  
...and I am sure in the back of his mind he thinks he is doing it for our own good.  
  
Is he planning on splitting us, transferring one or both to another chain of command? I don't know yet, although I am suspicious. This guy Chuckles coming in only adds to fuel to the fire...  
  
...and how do I feel about it?  
  
Truth be told, I am not entirely sure. Lady Jaye is as good a soldier as ANY on this team, but to be honest if I had my way she would be out of active combat duty, maybe out of the military all together...she would be safe. However, seeing as though that has about a good a chance at happening as Mutt suddenly becoming a 'cat person', I suppose our being separated in a professional sense is the only option.  
  
The thing is, I have had her back for so long...worked with her for so long...that I can't imagine NOT having her by my side in the ops meetings or on a mission. I respect her opinion and trust her with my life.   
  
Maybe I just don't want anyone else playing that role but me...  
  
You can't have it all, Faireborn.  
  
Career or relationship...relationship or career...  
  
I can see the fork in the road appearing over the horizon, and when we get there I wonder what direction we will choose to take, and what effect it will have on our life together...on our future.  
  
Will there be a future for us?  
  
Only time will tell. 


	23. November 12th

November 12th,  
  
"At midnight I'll turn into a pumpkin and drive away in my glass slipper...and that will be the end of the fairytale..."  
  
Surprisingly enough, those lines are not from a novel or any Oxford text, but come from a dialogue between Gregory Peck and Audrey Hepburn in 'Roman Holiday'.  
  
The film in question is a bittersweet romantic-comedy, a Cinderella tale in reverse. A runaway princess played by Hepburn rebels against her royal obligations, escaping the insulated confines of her royal prison. Once on the outside she finds a 'Prince Charming' commoner - Peck, an American reporter sent to cover the royal tour in Rome - and spends a day or two with him enjoying her freedom.   
  
It's not the entire movie that keeps replaying in my mind, truth be told I saw it so long ago I am surprised I remember any of it clearly. I am not a big film buff, not like Allie who has seen pretty much all the classics several times and knows them by heart. Regardless, one scene in particular...the last one...came back to me as plain as day.  
  
The princess is giving a final goodbye, and as she slowly turns toward the audience of reporters who have gathered to interview her, she gives them a smile and catches Peck's eye...holding a tearjerker of a gaze before departing with her retinue. As the rest of the press leaves, Peck continues to stare at the door through which she left, knowing full well he will never see her again.   
  
With echoing footsteps, he slowly leaves the room - the camera following as he walks through the sepulchral hall of some vast Roman palazzo. Turning one last time as he reaches the door, he looks back, his eyes full of loss, melancholy, love...expressing without words the bitter sweet feeling of love found fleetingly then lost irretrievably.   
  
The journalist had just surrendered the love of his life, leaving the young woman to her calling...being a princess.   
  
The whole thing is pure fantasy, an unlikely story that could only happen in a Hollywood script. Reality has no place in it...and yet at the very end it hits with full and brutal force. No happy ending here...  
  
You are probably scratching your head, wondering what it is I am going on about...what any of this has to do with my life as written in these journals. I guess the only way I can put it is that last night at the White House, I found myself staring at a princess and, like Gregory Peck, I was very much the love-struck commoner, fearing that any moment she would walk through those gilded doors back to the palace and out of my life forever.  
  
Lady Jaye...Lady Allison Hart Burnett...is hardly a royal, although she is a member of the British upper class...her Burnett ancestry tracing directly back to some well-to-do noble family. She is also from a world entirely different from my own. A world of privilege and power...of money and influence...and all the other perks that come from growing up a rich society girl.   
  
She is a Hart.  
  
I haven't touched on this side of her life. I try to be ambivalent...telling myself that it doesn't really matter anymore. I tend to forget her background, an easy thing to do when she is slogging through a bog or jumping out of an airplane beside you...when you are fighting alongside her day in and day out. Money doesn't ever enter the picture. We are Joes...we are taken care of...room, board...everything is provided. The salary is good and we really don't have much time to spend it anyhow.  
  
Truth is she has money.   
  
A lot of it.  
  
She had even more before her family cut her off when she joined the army. She never talks about it but I am sure, regardless of the disinheritance, what remains is certainly more than any soldier could possibly accumulate in a lifetime!  
  
Does it bother me?   
  
Sometimes it does. I make a good living, and I have a bright future with the forces. My parents raised four boys on a military salary, and though admittedly there were times when things were tight...when I couldn't get what I wanted or when I had to stay behind when all my friends were off vacationing at some cottage on the lake...I had a good life.   
  
The fact remains, however, that I can never give her what she is used to. I feel sometimes that I should just let her go, that I am keeping her from the good life...the country clubs and yachts, the summer homes and horses, the Vineyard estates and the English manors.   
  
I feel that I am holding her back from realizing some vast untapped potential, a potential that shone so very clearly at the Washington gala we attended together.  
  
I couldn't believe my eyes when I glimpsed her emerging from the Rolls Royce limousine, stepping out onto the red carpet. Alison is a beautiful woman, even in her cammies...an ensemble that hardly accentuates the female form. Of course, I have seen her in the buff and KNOW she has a lovely figure...but when I saw her last night in the long black dress, diamonds around her neck, hair done and eyes alight...I was dumbstruck.  
  
She was exquisite!  
  
It wasn't just how she had put herself together, it was the way she walked...her poise, her grace, her assured and confident bearing...a princess in every sense of the word. Even Hawk and Duke stood in awe, shocked and pleased by the 'Lady' who just the other day had been lugging around the base in combat boots and a baseball hat.  
  
It was incredible.  
  
So stunned was I by her beauty, by this glorious woman I had known for so many years who now stood before me a virtual stranger, that for the first time in my life I was at a loss for words. I could hardly even say her name!  
  
She merely looked at me affectionately, amusement dancing in her eyes...I was in such a state I don't remember what she said...before setting off towards the ballroom with me following at her heels like a puppy.  
  
In fact, I think I would have remained a babbling idiot for the rest of the evening had I not been reminded that we were on a mission...and a dangerous one at that. For there, in the hall in their dress best, medals and ribbons gleaming on their chests, were the men known collectively as the Jugglers.  
  
Hawk is a shrewd man. He plays politics almost as well as he moves his men on the battlefield. Like a slow and deliberate game of chess, he shifts his pieces expertly in an attempt to place his opponent in check. This time however, sitting on the other side of the checkered board was not COBRA...who play erratically at the best of times...but the most powerful men in the Pentagon, all of them masters of the game...  
  
...And because of this, the piece he chose to put into play was Lady Jaye...the 'Queen'.  
  
The most dominant piece on the board, in chess the Queen combines the power of the Rook and the Bishop, moving in any direction with ease and purpose. Intelligent and deadly, Alison is as much at home in these political and social circles as she is on the battlefield...maybe more so.   
  
It was a cunning move on the General's part, using her name to shake up the inner circle...using her skills to glean what information she could off these Washington players.   
  
Problem is, in chess every move you make has a consequence. If you are skilled enough, lucky enough...you win. If not, you risk loosing your piece and being placed in check yourself.  
  
But this isn't a game. The Jugglers are dangerous men and the piece he has played happens to be the woman I love. If he loses she won't merely be put aside to be played again another day.  
  
These men are more treacherous than even COBRA.   
  
Not surprisingly, Alison was less than amused by my worries...interpreting my concern as a slight against her abilities. She told me off quickly enough, and proceeded to show me, in no uncertain terms, how capable she actually was.  
  
She was in her element...and she just SHONE!  
  
I was impressed. I was more than impressed...I was in awe! I was proud as hell of the woman on my arm.   
  
Needless to say, I wasn't the only one whose eye she caught. She turned heads everywhere she went, and I could see the men she spoke with were quite taken with her. The little tinge of jealousy danced around my head throughout the evening, but I didn't let it take over. I merely stood proud beside her, my posture shouting loud and clear "back off, she's taken!"  
  
Amusingly enough, it was she who succumbed to 'the green eyed monster' that night.   
  
I'm going to let you in on a little secret...women can't resist and man in dress uniform. It's true! Just put on you blues and wait, they come in droves like flies to honey! Its one of the many perks that come with being a soldier!  
  
Last night was no exception, and being the incurable flirt that I am I smiled the winning smile and used that irresistible Faireborn magnetism to the best of my abilities. It was all in good fun, of course...I was here to gather information after all, and what better way than to charm it out of the love struck young females in the vicinity.  
  
"Who was that you were talking to?" She sidled up next to me at the bar where I was sipping a drink and talking to Duke.  
  
"Who?"   
  
"The girl...'la blonde' over there. The one with the legs..."  
  
"Legs? I didn't notice..." Duke muttered into his glass while I tried to suppress a smile. Truth was, I was thinking she had nothing on Allie, but it was fun watching her get all riled up.   
  
"Oh come on, I saw you two watching her walk away...you were practically salivating."  
  
"Allie..." I growled, amused at the look on her face. It was one I recognized immediately as I get often get when I see her talking to another guy.  
  
"Oh come on, look at that dress...one inch shorter and the world's her gynecologist!"  
  
"ALlSON!" I exclaimed. Beside me, Hauser nearly choked on his scotch.  
  
She merely harrumphed, grabbed the drink out of my hand and dragged me out onto the dance floor. I swear I saw her give the woman in question the evil eye as we passed.  
  
Can you believe I was actually having a great time despite the wily, two-timing politicians that surrounded me? We ate, we mingled, we danced...I guess being with Allie, watching her work the room, brought out the best in me.   
  
She always brings out the best in me...  
  
I guess its time I finally got to the point. I'm still a bit stunned by the whole thing and I doubt I can do the scene justice on these pages. I am shaken...yes...but elated as well.   
  
I did it.  
  
I finally did it.  
  
I told Alison that I loved her.  
  
Its not as if I exclaimed it at the top of my lungs right there in front of the President and First Lady. To tell you the truth, it kind of slipped out by accident, and before I could backpedal and quickly change the subject, Allie had me cornered.   
  
I had better begin at the beginning.   
  
I had been looking for Alison and was growing concerned. It wasn't like her to disappear without telling me, and given the company we were keeping that evening I couldn't help but imagine the worst. Granted, I was also a bit anxious over a conversation I had overheard between her and an old friend from her Vineyard days.  
  
I didn't catch the whole thing, but the woman...Melanie was her name... mentioned something about Alison coming back into the fold...that the game had gone on long enough and they never meant for her to take it so seriously.   
  
Something about wasting her life playing soldier.  
  
I know I know...I shouldn't have been eavesdropping. I couldn't help it! I heard Allie giggling...(GIGGLING...can you believe it...it was really kind of cute) ...and was curious as to what was making her so happy.  
  
It was then that it started...the weird movie hallucinations that I mentioned earlier. As I listened to them speak, the scene before me blurred and shifted and suddenly I found myself standing in a palace hall watching Audrey Hepburn walk away from me in full regalia. I blinked hard, trying to clear my vision...but by the time I came back to reality Allie was gone.   
  
Swearing off alcohol for the night, I began to look for her...delayed at every turn by Hawk, who kept pulling me aside to introduce some politician or General. I am sure my relief was palatable when I managed to politely extricate myself and continue my search, even more so when I finally found her.   
  
She was just outside in the presidential gardens, standing alone looking up at the moon. She didn't notice when I stepped out onto the patio, so intent was she on her thoughts. In the background, the band had just come back on and the sound of Henry Mancini was wafting out through the large French doors behind her.   
  
I stood frozen as I watched her...lost in her beauty...unwilling to break the spell. I remained hidden for a while, trying to etch this glorious image of her into my mind, when out of the blue I heard Gregory Peck's voice in my mind, sorrowful and pained...  
  
"...and that will be the end of the fairytale."  
  
I shook my head in an attempt to quiet the sound, wondering yet again what they had put in my drink when I remembered the conversation I had overheard. The familiar hurt began to rise again in my gut.  
  
I went to confront her, but when I saw her look back at me, her eyes tinged with sadness, saw her shiver and pull the wrap around her shoulder, saw her turn back to watch the moon and stars, my anger faded to nothing. All I could do was gently place my hand on her shoulder and kiss the top of her head.  
  
"Alison, honey, what's wrong?"  
  
With that simple gesture, with those simple words...the floodgates opened.   
  
She swung around and in what seemed to be a single breath...told me everything. That she joined the army on a dare, that her friends and she all thought it was going to be temporary. That she stayed in boot camp just to spite her mother and was absolutely terrible at it. She told me she felt like she didn't belong, that she was just playing soldier and Hawk knew it, that her friends and family thought she had lost it...that the other Joes were going to hate her when they found out...that I probably hated her.  
  
She told me she missed her old life...that there are days when she was so tired of the fighting she just wanted to walk away and go home but she didn't know where she belonged anymore...that she didn't know who she was anymore.  
  
That she was afraid she had somehow lost her way.  
  
She took a deep breath and looked at the ground, unable to meet my eye. I was completely stunned...I can't remember the last time she opened up to me like that. Although a bit irked about the dare thing...I have to admit I found it more funny than irritating. Christ...she left everything on a DARE! If that isn't a typical, stubborn, hard headed, competitive 'Jaye' reaction I don't know what is!  
  
But mostly, I was...happy? No, not the right word...more like honored she had let me in. That she trusted me, felt enough for me to tell me the truth.   
  
Of course, when I tried to express this verbally it came out all wrong.   
  
The effect was immediate...her head whipped up as her eyes met mine...full of fire and hurt as she snapped something about my not having to worry...that she wouldn't burden me with her personal melodramas ever again.  
  
Last night though, I was on the ball for once in my life. I grabbed her arms and swung her around to face me, shaking my head in frustration.   
  
"I meant that I like it when you do. It makes me feel like I really mean something to you. That you trust me..."  
  
Her eyes softened and I felt her body relax.   
  
She began to tease me, and although I laughed my mind was elsewhere. For it was at that moment that I finally realized what she telling me...at least my interpretation of what she had just said. She wanted to go home. Not home with me, to our home with the Joes...but home to her old life.   
  
A place where I couldn't follow...a place where I didn't belong.  
  
As these thoughts assailed me my vision began to blur again, and when it cleared Jaye was no longer in front of me. In her place was Audrey Hepburn, speaking to me in a soft, sad voice.  
  
"I have to leave you now. I'm going to that corner there and will turn. You just stay in the car and drive away. Promise not to watch me go beyond the corner. Just drive away and leave me as I leave you." She closed her eyes and continued. " I don't know how to say goodbye. I can't think of any words."   
  
"Don't try." I answered, bending to kiss her. I felt a tremendous sensation of loss. It was like I was being ripped in two.  
  
"Don't try what, Dash?" Alison's voice brought me back to the reality, back to the moment. She was looking at me oddly, and it was then that I realized I had said the words aloud.   
  
I closed my eyes. Christ...it was all so clear! What was I thinking? I had to let her go. It was going to kill me but she deserved this life. She deserved to be a 'princess', she was born to be a 'princess'...I loved her too much to hold her back.   
  
I loved her enough to want to put her happiness before my own.   
  
"Dare or no, you should be proud of what you have accomplished. You made the GIJOE team...you are the best of the best. Don't let anyone tell you that it is meaningless. Don't ever think that don't belong. But tonight..." I paused, collecting myself...praying that I could keep it together.  
  
"Tonight?" she prodded me to continue. I brushed my hand across her cheek and smiled sadly.  
  
"Tonight I saw the most beautiful woman I have ever met bring several of the most powerful men in the country to their knees with a glance and a well placed word." I couldn't take it anymore and looked down before continuing, "Your friend is right...you are right...you DO belong here, Alison."  
  
"Dashiell..."   
  
"I guess in the back of my mind I always knew you were out of my league." I laughed softly, sadly "That one day, when all of this is over...when the Joes disband...that you would go back to your old life."  
  
"Do you think so little of me, Dashiell. After all we have gone through..." I heard her voice catch as she turned away from me. It broke my heart.  
  
"No...Alison. I think the world of you." I leaned over, whispering in her ear. "I think so little of myself."  
  
She turned around sharply and looked at me in shock and surprise, and I couldn't help but laugh.  
  
"Yeah...the secrets out eh? But then again...I think you more than anyone knew that all along. I am such a jerk sometimes, it's a wonder that you put up with me."   
  
"I ask myself the same question...I never know from one minute to the next what's going to come out of that mouth of yours." She smiled up at me; her eyes alight.  
  
"Never a dull moment. I guess you bring out the worst in me...and the best as well. You always saw through me...even when I was acting like a fool. You stood by me despite the fact that I have done nothing to deserve it..."  
  
I paused then, trying to find the words to express how I felt...trying to find a way to say goodbye. Then...before I could stop myself, a quote came to my head and out of my mouth at breakneck speed.  
  
"...and I think 'I love you the more in that I believe you have liked me for my own sake and for nothing else'."  
  
She froze at the words, her eyes growing wide.   
  
"What did you just say?" she whispered as I backed up, trying desperately to get things back on track.  
  
"You heard me..." I looked away, trying to regain control of the situation. Think Faireborn...think!  
  
"Come on Jaye...its not like you didn't know..." Oh...good one...Oxford was certainly worth every penny. Idiot!  
  
"I didn't. Love has no place in the military...remember? Keep it light...remember?"  
  
"Well, I lied. Happy?" I growled. My sadness was rapidly transforming itself into anger, the usual defense when I am hurting...and I was about to experience more pain than a soul could possibly imagine. It had to be done...I loved her too much. I had to let her go.   
  
"It means nothing anyhow...this is where you belong."  
  
That did it. I saw Alison's eyes narrow and could feel the waves of anger emanating from her body. She was pissed...and I was directly in the line of fire.  
  
"Who are you to tell me where I belong?" she snarled, "All my life I have had people telling me what to do, how to think, where I should be...I will make my own choices thank you very much. And where I belong is with you, you stubborn fool."   
  
I opened my mouth to protest but she was too wound up. She plowed right over me...  
  
"You are what I want. You are all I have ever wanted...the power, the money, and the influence...I walked away from it years ago. I would be lying if I said I didn't miss it...that I sometimes wonder where my life would be now if I had just walked out of that coffee shop and told Jules to shove it. But the minute I do, I remember that had I not taken up his challenge...had I not accepted the dare...I would have missed out on some of the most fulfilling and wonderful experiences of my life...that I would never have met you. "  
  
She stopped then, and both of us stood in quiet astonishment at what was happening...at what was being said. I remember thinking to myself 'oh god, she loves me...she wants to be with ME!' My heart was singing but, like a fool, still I didn't believe...still I had my doubts. Audrey's movie voice kept echoing through my head.   
  
"At midnight I'll turn into a pumpkin and drive away in my glass slipper..."   
  
"What you said before..." Allie's voice broke through the haze that was forming around me...soft as if from a great distance...drawing me back...calling me home.  
  
"I meant it. " I sighed, "You?"  
  
"Yes..."  
  
"You have to know it would never work."  
  
"How do you know that, Dashiell?" she asked calmly, locking her eyes with mine, "How can you say that knowing all we have been through? All the happiness and the hurt, all the ups and downs...through all the difficulty of maintaining a relationship in the military...on the JOE TEAM...we have stuck by each other. Do those five years mean nothing?"  
  
"They mean everything. More than you could possibly imagine..." I sighed, memories coming back now...bad ones... "...but I know what happens next..."  
  
Then she said it...the one thing she knew would get a reaction.  
  
"I'm not Karen."  
  
I felt the familiar anger rise at the sound of her name, and from the look on Alison's face I knew that my expression had taken a turn for the worse. Amazingly though, for the first time since...well, since forever...I was able to control it. I was able to draw it up and out without exploding. Instead of throwing me into a fit of rage, it began to disperse and I could feel myself growing calmer.  
  
And as it dissipated, I realized that Alison was right. All this insecurity had nothing to do with her and her past...her money and family. As usual, in those moments when I realize how much I love her, like tonight...the insecurities from MY past rise up to block me. They seem to be getting increasingly creative too...Roman Holiday...Christ, where did that come from?  
  
In any case, Allie is right. She IS NOT Karen. I couldn't even begin to compare the two. I loved Karen, but what I felt for her was nothing against what I experience when I am around Allie. The intensity, the need, the contentment and happiness...the passion and love...  
  
...Truth is, it terrifies me.  
  
"Me too."  
  
I looked up at the sound of her voice, not realizing I had said all this out loud. We stood staring at each other for a moment, unsure of what to say. So much had been laid out on the table tonight...so much that should have been said long ago...that neither of us was quite sure how to proceed.  
  
You will be happy to know that it was I who broke the silence. It was time...and you know what? I was ready. I knew what I wanted and it was she. Money be damned, family be damned, military regs be damned...Karen could go to hell for all I cared. I was never a quitter. I was never a coward.   
  
I'll be damned if I was going to give up now!  
  
I smiled and brought my hand up to cup touch her cheek, giving her some quiet reassurance...seeking reassurance in turn.  
  
"This isn't going to be easy..." I whispered.  
  
"When has our relationship ever been that? Three has always been a crowd."  
  
"Three?" I froze, wondering who the hell she was talking about. Who it was I was going to have to kill.  
  
"You, me...and your ego." She smiled, her eyes bright. I couldn't help but laugh in amusement and pure, unadulterated joy. She loved me...she really did!  
  
"God...Allie...I love you."  
  
"I love you too."  
  
So here I lie in the hotel king sized, her sleeping form nestled beside me, writing these words down...these feelings down so that I will never forget them. Not that I ever will...the events of last night will remain in my thoughts for the rest of my life.  
  
I should be sleeping, god knows I am exhausted...but I am too happy, too excited to relax. I am a little nervous too. I wasn't kidding when I told Alison it wasn't going to be easy. There are things on the horizon that will put our relationship to the test, things that I sense coming but cannot yet make out.   
  
But that's life, isn't it? Every day is a challenge in its own way.   
  
We will face it together, though. We have always been a great team and now we are stronger than we have ever been. Who would have known three simple words could make such a difference?  
  
I love her. She loves me.   
  
In the end...when all is said and done...knowing that gives us the strength to conquer anything. 


End file.
